


Haikyuu Whumptober Fest 2018!

by Lonely_Broccoli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Accidents, Adopted Gang Member, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Beating, Betrayal, Blackmail, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bloody Hands, Broken Bones, Bullying, Bus Crash, Chemical Weapons, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Claustrophobia, Concussions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutting, Depressed bokuto, Depression, Disasters, Domestic Violence, Drugs, Electrocution, Exhaustion, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fever, Fukuroudani, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Homophobia, Hospitalization, Hostage Situations, Hot Weather, Hurt Kindaichi, Hurt Kuroo, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, I Blame Tumblr, I wrote an entire ass Fukurodani suffering give me love, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Insomnia, Insomniac Matsukawa, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Nosebleed, Other characters and tags to be added, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Physical Abuse, Pneumonia, Poisoning, Restraints, Romantic Fluff, Self-Harm, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Shipwrecks, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, Sleeping Together, Snow, Soldiers, Stabbing, Storms, Stranded, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family, Terminal Illnesses, There may be death in some works so check the notes/summary!!, Threats, Threats of Violence, Torture, Vomiting, Watching Someone Sleep, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018, Yakuza, broken ribs, coughing up blood, gas attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 51,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Broccoli/pseuds/Lonely_Broccoli
Summary: If Haikyuu suffering is what you crave, then this is the right place to take your pick.This will be a bunch of ficlets with no connection other than whump, featuring multiple pairings you can choose from. Or team fics if I'm up to it.I hope you enjoy the pain as much as I do.





	1. Stabbed: KuroDai

Daichi tapped his foot impatiently. Kuroo’s bathroom breaks never lasted more than ten minutes, and yet here he was, sitting at a coffee table with nobody opposite him. An unpleasant feeling hummed in his solar plexus, like he was missing out on something he didn’t know.

He wasn’t going to wait for more than twenty-five minutes for Kuroo to finish his business and emerge out of the bathroom. Taking out his phone, Daichi formatted an impatient message to get his boyfriend moving.

**To: Tetsurou**

_Get your ass back here._

The message’s ‘sent’ status didn’t change, even after five minutes. Kuroo was a quick texter, even when he was busy with college work. Daichi’s annoyance changed to worry. He yanked out a thousand yen bill from his wallet and left it on the table,

“Tetsu!” He called out, throwing himself out of their usual coffee shop. “Tetsu, where are you?” He yelled frantically, panic overtaking his common sense. It was darker outside than he thought, and murky water splashed onto his leg as he stepped into a puddle.

When he finally located the bathroom outside, he was out of breath, tears welling up the corners of his eyes. “Tetsu, are you okay? What’s going on?” He exhaled sharply, regaining his composure once he reached his destination.

He expected Kuroo to pop out of a stall exclaiming “Ta-da!”, laughing and clapping. Instead, he heard faint sobbing coming from the back of the building. He couldn’t tell if it was Kuroo, but it was the only lead he had.

Daichi took a breath, expecting something bad to happen. He forced his legs to move, even when his heart started thudding in his chest cavity. Something was wrong. His thoughts assuming the worst only increased when a pained cry sounded beside him all of a sudden.

“Daichi?”

In a split second of pure horror, Daichi saw Kuroo with his face bruised and bloodied, and his expression of shock that crossed on his face when a knife entered his middle. The dim streetlights illuminated a hooded assailant, and Kuroo’s face losing its colour.

Confusion immediately overtook him, then devastating fear. The person who had stabbed Kuroo was getting away rapidly, but Daichi couldn’t bring himself to give chase. Not when his boyfriend was leaking blood all over the ground, the rainwater turning a murky crimson.

“Shit. Tetsu, can you hear me?” Daichi placed an arm behind Kuroo, lifting him up gently to assess the damage. Kuroo gave a whine of protest, his hand shaking as he attempted to protect his injuries.

“Someone! Anyone, call an ambulance!” Daichi screamed, looking around for people that could help him. As much as he didn’t want to leave Kuroo’s side, he needed help fast. Daichi couldn’t see any of his organs poking out, which had to be a good sign. A sign that Kuroo was going to survive.

It took too long for Daichi to gather a small crowd around Kuroo, with flashlights to pin the focus on Kuroo’s bleeding stomach. “Don’t look down. Look at me, Tetsu.” Daichi tipped Kuroo’s chin up upon noticing that he was attempting to assess the wound. He couldn’t see, else he could very well panic and go into shock.

“Why’s there so much water on my stomach?” Kuroo’s voice was a faint whisper, and Daichinhad to tear his eyes away from what was causing Kuroo’s uncomfortable wet feeling. “Am I gonna be okay, Dai?”

Daichi gripped Kuroo’s hand tight, silently praying that the adrenaline would keep pumping until the ambulance arrived. “Yeah. You’ll be okay. Just don’t talk, and keep looking up here.” He takes the utmost care not to fuel Kuroo’s panic, instead whispering to him softly.

“I’m so tired, Daichi. I just want to sleep,” Kuroo winced after every word, growing limp. “Is that okay? Can I rest now?”

Daichi’s grip grew tighter, urging Kuroo to stay awake. “Stay with me a little longer, Kuroo. I promise you’ll get the rest you deserve, soon.” _Soon_ , or however long the paramedics were going to take. He wasn’t going to let Kuroo slip away.

“Okay,” Kuroo weakly returned Daichi’s gesture, hand curling against Daichi’s.

“I love you, Tetsurou. It’s all okay, trust me.” Daichi held back his emotions, for the sake of Kuroo. But he had to tell him how much he was loved, how much he was needed. How much Daichi depended on him to go on.

The hum of ambulance sirens rang out as Kuroo’s eyelids fluttered, narrow eyes staring into Daichi’s face as a tear dropped onto his cheek.


	2. Bloody Hands- Fukurodani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many things Fukurodani have survived together. Bokuto's emo modes, official matches, and everything in between. 
> 
> A bus crash is not one that they ever wanted to go through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo o o  
> It's me again  
> I'm an angst fucker so I decided to involve the entire fuckin Fukurodani boys into this prompt  
> Leave a kudo and comment kiddos it saves my author's soul  
> Also I apologise for any weirdness. I blame the headache I was sporting all day.

“For the Fukurodani boys!” Bokuto popped open a can of orange soda, clinking drinks with his teammates.

“For the Fukurodani boys!”

Laughter echoed inside the bus, bouncing off the windows as the entire team began ripping open snack packets and trading them excitedly, making more noise than they needed to. They had just won a practice match all the way over at Shinzen, and celebration was ensuing inside the bus.

“Bokuto, dammit, stop hogging the doughnuts!”

Konoha threw an empty jagariko can at Bokuto, who swerved to dodge it while chewing the chocolate-covered doughnuts that made his cheeks swell up. “Then eat faster, Konoha! Finders keepers, losers weepers!”

“I don’t think you’re using that term the right way, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pointed out calmly, but his face failed to hide a smile while he shoved pocky boxes up his jacket.

“Akaashi, don’t think for a minute I didn’t see you there! Give me one of those!” Konoha wriggled around to tackle Akaashi, while the coach roared at them to sit down and keep their seatbelts on. “Here, Sarukui, help me out!”

Sarukui gave a shrug, throwing caramel popcorn into his mouth. “I don’t know, Konoha. I’m a little busy here.” He gestured towards Komi snoring on his lap. “And keep it down. Some people are sleeping.”

“Oi!” Konoha rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and huffing dejectedly. “Fine. I’ll just stick with Washio! Right?” He shuffled into Washio until he was almost sitting on top of him, his arm curling around him. “He’s on my side. And I’m sure Onaga is too!”

“Eh? Me?” Onaga looked up from his phone, shocked. “S-sure! I think,” he mumbled, shoving a handful of doritos into his mouth. Bokuto snorted with laughter, smacking Akaashi’s back as he giggled.

“Konoha-san. Please refrain from dragging Onaga into your problems.”

“Akaashi, you-!”

Konoha’s dramatic, anguished screaming echoed in the bus, as Bokuto threw his head back laughing and smacked his head into the back of his seat. The bubbly atmosphere was comforting, like family. The whole team appreciated everyone’s presence, and some team members were beginning to get into a cuddly mood.

And then, their cosy world turned upside down.

Nobody knew what was happening at first, but the screeching of brakes and the bus rapidly tilting to the left was enough for the realisation to dawn on them. Something was very, very wrong.

It didn’t make a difference whether they knew what was going on or not. A crash that deafened the entire team sounded as the bus collapsed, terrified screams being the last sound that Akaashi heard before his world turned into nothing.

When Akaashi realised that he was lying down on a cold, hard surface, he attempted to lift himself up, which proved much more painful than he anticipated. And then, he remembered what had happened. The crash, the shattering glass, the smile on Bokuto’s face disappearing.

Bokuto. He needed to find Bokuto, or anyone else for that matter. As he dragged himself into a sitting position, he became increasingly aware of his own condition. His left ear throbbed with every heartbeat, and a piece of glass was lodged into his arm. He could feel bruises starting to form on his body.

“Akaashi?”

The first one to find him was Sarukui, whose eye was badly bleeding but very much alive. “You’re okay,” the third year limped over to Akaashi, leaving a trail of blood that came from his hidden wounds. “You’re alive. I thought-“ Sarukui broke his sentence with a sob, wrapping an arm around Akaashi shakily.

“Is- is anyone else there?” Akaashi stumbled over his words, almost tripping as he made his way over to another part of the wreckage. He swept away glass with his foot, clearing his path. His legs stung as he walked, but he didn’t feel like rolling up his clothes just to see his wounds.

“Komi’s concussed, but he’s not in critical condition. At least, from what I’ve gathered.” Sarukui followed, urging Akaashi to follow in his steps to avoid stepping on more glass shards. Akaashi still needed to find Konoha, Bokuto, Onaga and Washio. His concern only grew when he saw Komi.

“Komi, Akaashi’s okay. He’s here.” Sarukui lifted Komi into his lap gently, warm blood leaking onto his palms as he supported his head. “How are you both feeling?”

Komi groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment, then opening them to check Akaashi’s safety for himself. “So- so glad you’re okay.” He choked out, before clutching Sarukui’s clothes wincing. “I feel sick,” he whimpered, hand reaching up to hold Sarukui’s arm.

“I’m mildly injured, but I can move. Let’s find the others.” Akaashi nodded determinedly, sucking in a breath. The wreckage was even worse ahead, but he knew that it was virtually impossible to escape unless they were as small as Komi. They had to be trapped in the one spot, or too injured to move.

Sarukui set Komi down, taking off his jacket to let him lay on a soft surface. “I’m coming with you. We’ll be back, Komi. I promise.” He whispered, comforting him like a parent would. As much as he didn’t want to leave Komi, he needed to check for himself that the others were alright.

The glass became too much to cast to one side after five or six steps forward, and a large part of the bus protruded towards Akaashi and Sarukui at an irregular angle. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Sarukui warned Akaashi before bending down cautiously, squeezing himself under the metal and cursing as he stumbled forward.

“The same can be said for you.” Akaashi made himself as small as possible, a difficult feat considering his height. Sarukui stopped in his tracks once Akaashi came through, scanning the area for a sign of their teammates.

“Konoha? Washio?”

A meek, fearful voice reached them from below. “Senpai, is that you?” Onaga was curled up tightly in a spot beside a bunch of steel bent out of shape, narrowly missing him. “Akaashi-senpai, Sarukui-senpai! I need your help! Washio-senpai is stuck with Bokuto-senpai, and I can’t get out of here-“

“Hey, hey. You’re okay, take a breath.” Sarukui brushed Onaga’s cheeks with his fingers that were the least bloodied, avoiding the cuts on the first year’s face. “You said Bokuto and Washio, right? We can go help them. Are you hurt bad?”

Washio nervously extended his leg, with his hand applying continuous pressure on it to prevent blood from spilling out too much. “I think I tore something. I can’t walk at this moment, but I could hear Washio-san and Konoha-san calling for help. Konoha-san is trying to find a way to get out right now, but he’s also stuck with them.”

“Okay,” Sarukui tore off a part of his own shirt, tying it tightly around Onaga’s thigh. It wasn’t going to be able to stop the bleeding too long without damaging the leg, but it was better than nothing, he assumed. “If we somehow get the rubble away, they’ll be able to get out of there.”

Getting to the three others was easier said than done, by far. “Stand away from there,” Akaashi had warned, but the cries of “Okay,” were too far away even from there. Every time a beam or a piece of window was taken out, a torrent of glass and rubble would come crashing towards Sarukui and Akaashi. By the time they had managed to make enough space to squeeze themselves in, their arms and hands were covered in scrapes and cuts, stinging miserably.

“Konoha? Can you hear us? Is Washio and Bokuto there with you?” Sarukui called out, heaving a sigh at the ground. It was even worse than where he was shortly before, if that was even possible. The pieces of steel made unstable ground, near impossible to walk on. Akaashi and Sarukui resorted to walking as close to the edge of the wreck as they could, still tearing their shoe soles to bits.

“Akaashi, Sarukui.” Washio was the first to march towards them, when Akaashi and Sarukui finally spotted the last three missing members. “We need your help, right now.” Akaashi almost froze upon glancing at Washio. A long gash spread across his face, from the corner of his lip to just below his eye. He didn’t seem to care about the glass crunching at his feet, despite blood dripping with every step he took.

“Shit,” Sarukui muttered, while Akaashi’s lip curled into a tight frown. If nobody was tending to Washio’s wounds, it had to mean that Konoha and Bokuto were worse off. “What’s happened, Washio? What do we need to do?”

Washio led the way to where Konoha and Bokuto were, and relief immediately set into Akaashi’s heart when he saw the both of them in one piece. He’d assumed the worst when Washio didn’t say anything except that he needed help. “Bokuto-san, Konoha-san, I’m glad you made it.”

“Akaashi,” Sarukui nudged the second year, pointing at Bokuto’s arm. Or rather, where it was supposed to be. “Look at him.” The captain’s right arm was almost entirely buried in rubble below the elbow, and Konoha was ready to burst into tears at the sight of his two teammates.

“We need to pull him out,” Konoha said weakly, prying open Bokuto’s eyes. “Come on, don’t pass out on me, Bokuto! You’re gonna be okay, just hold on! Don’t close your eyes!” Ignoring his own lacerations and split lip, Konoha cried out desperately to keep his friend barely conscious.

Akaashi wanted to panic. His captain’s arm, the arm that swung to spike his tosses, under rubble. He couldn’t imagine what it looked like underneath the steel. “We will get him out. Konoha-san, make sure to keep a grip on him.” He slid his hand under the slab of metal that trapped Bokuto’s arm, Sarukui and Washio combining their efforts to lift the metal just so that Konoha could pull his arm out.

“This thing is heavy as fuck,” Sarukui swore audibly, straining against the heavy metal. “Try again. On the count of three, lift it as much as you can.” He glanced at Akaashi and Washio to get a nod out of them, then counting “One, two, three, lift!”

The metal didn’t budge at first, until it slipped out of place for a fraction of a second. “Now! Lift it up!” Washio called out, and little by little, the slab started to slide away enough for Konoha to pull Bokuto’s arm out. Akaashi had painful imprints on his fingers and his cuts opened, but he didn’t care. What he saw stopped his heart.

Blood. Bokuto’s hand was more red than it was skin colour, and everything below the elbow looked less like an arm and more like the inside of a fruit. His fingers weren’t meant to be pointing in all those different directions. Everything above his hand was bloody or discoloured, with bones visible to the naked eye.

“Akaashi, my arm hurts,” Bokuto whined, and Konoha was quick to stop him from looking down at his mangled hand. “What happened to it? It hurts so damn much…” he was half delirious, but he wasn’t blind. His hands lifted slightly to roam around, looking for Akaashi’s comfort.

“Bokuto-san, listen to me,” Akaashi lifted Bokuto’s fringe, looking for signs of a head injury. “Your arm is hurt, but we’ll be getting help for it. What else hurts?”

“My neck,” Bokuto blinked, and tears freely flowed down his bruised cheeks. “Guys, why’s my arm so red? Am I gonna- gonna be able to play again?” He asked, his voice getting panicked. “Are we gonna get out of this place soon?”

Akaashi nodded, although a look of uncertainty was passed along the others. Bokuto’s concerns came from a place of reason somewhat, even if his responsiveness wasn’t perfect. “It’s going to be okay. This location isn’t too remote. This is Tokyo, someone should come.” Konoha assured Bokuto, relieved that he was too far away for Bokuto to see how unsure he was.

“I guess,” Bokuto rasped out, face scrunched up with pain. “Just- just tell them to be quick. I don’t want to stay like this.”

Akaashi stroked Bokuto’s hair, shushing him comfortingly. “I know, Bokuto-san. You’ve been doing great so far. Stay awake, okay?” He swept the tears away, reminding himself not to spill any of his own. Bokuto had to pull through. He was strong, but no match for a bus falling on its side. The only thing he could do was prevent him from passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they survive because I said so. Nobody dies you all can be happy now


	3. Insomnia: MatsuHana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights, he just can't sleep.   
> Other nights, the pain wakes him up. 
> 
> But it's a lot less lonely when a boyfriend is at your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore my fuckin summary agshjsjsn this is late help me

Matsukawa sat slouched in his seat, biting his lip compulsively to keep himself awake. He couldn’t miss another lecture by snoring through it, when he’d already succeeded in passing out like that four times. On days he didn’t fall asleep in class, he sometimes couldn’t go altogether. He was dangerously close to failing with the sheer lack of participation.

A mechanical pencil poked his back. It was Oikawa, peering into him with the same concerned face since high school. “Mattsun, you okay? Want me to call Hanamaki?” He whispered, placing his palm on either side of his mouth.

Matsukawa shook his head to signify a definitive no. He couldn’t bother Hanamaki for the _third time_ this week, when he had stayed with him through the sleepless nights until he could exhaust himself long enough to pass out. He’d decided to power through the pain on his own.

His tender spots throbbed with each passing second. It was the only thing keeping him awake, but also the reason he was in the verge of fainting. His energy had been sapped until he was nothing but a shell of what he used to be in high school, the chronic pain taking away his ability to lead a normal, functioning college life.

Instead of attending parties and looking for a part-time job, Matsukawa spent his evenings curled up on a soft surface in pain or staring at the ceiling counting the sleepless seconds as his eyes burned into his head. And Hanamaki often stayed by his side, comforting him through every painful and ugly moment. A plethora of problems came with his initial condition, some of them being very unpleasant to experience and discuss.

Matsukawa’s brain was engulfed in a thick cloud of mist, and his joins roared with pain as minutes passed. A bead of sweat travelled down his back as he counted down the seconds until class would be over. He couldn’t deal with the pain and drowsiness for long, and he’d completely given up on writing his sloppy notes halfway through.

It took too long for the bell to start ringing. Matsukawa waited until a good portion of his class had already left before he even attempted to stand up, knowing he could make a show of himself if he tried to stand up all of a sudden. He kept a hard grip on the table, lifting himself into a standing position before Oikawa could offer to help.

“Thank you, goodbye.” Matsukawa muttered as he left the classroom for common decency’s sake, avoiding all eye contact with his professor. He knew how some people looked at him, and he preferred not to take it all in when his entire body screamed at him to lie down. He knew that many of his classmates and professors judged him for hardly being able to attend classes, no matter what his friends did to help the cause.

It wasn’t like he could help feeling sick all the time. He was the most bitter about the whole situation. He didn’t ask for a chronic illness that leeched the life out of him. He wanted to study nutrition and graduate with a decent enough grade to get his dream job. He wanted to return to the days when he had his life together.

“Issei, hey.” Hanamaki gently wrapped an arm around him from behind, as he walked down the hallway. He remembered to avoid his tender spots, as always. Hanamaki never blamed Matsukawa for having a health condition that he couldn’t control. He always calmed him down after he broke down crying or had an angry outburst because of the amount of pain he couldn’t escape from. He never complained about losing sleep or his limited free time. As selfish as it made him felt, Matsukawa wanted more people like Hanamaki in his life.

Matsukawa nodded at Hanamaki, lifting his hand slightly to attempt a wave. He couldn’t lift his arm all the way, but Hanamaki recognised his gesture straight away. “How’s today been treating you?” Hanamaki asked, whipping out a few coins to buy a drink from the vending machine. “I’m assuming you want the green tea.” He waited a beat to let Matsukawa protest his order, and pressed the button on the vending machine when Matsukawa said nothing.

“Thanks, Hiro.” Matsukawa grinned in satisfaction, affection outweighing the pain for a brief moment before the throbbing in his body came back again. Hanamaki loosened the bottle cap before handing the green tea to him, while he bought his own matcha au lait. “You’re the best boyfriend I can ever-“ he paused, wincing as spots started appearing in the side of his vision.

“Bad pain day?” Hanamaki said, without missing a beat. Matsukawa shrugged, but it really meant a yes. He did have worse days, but almost passing out during a lecture was definitely bad. Hanamaki immediately got his cues, taking a glorious sip of his drink. “Let’s go home. Does that sound good?”

“Oh, it sounds absolutely amazing.” Matsukawa sighed with a hint of happiness. Walking hurt, but he could make it to Hanamaki’s car if he could bear with it for a few minutes. He’d stopped using public transport after he threw up in a train one night.

Matsukawa leaned his weight into Hanamaki as they trudged over to the car, attempting to mask the effects of pain on his body. It exhausted him to know that people stared at him when he walked _that_ way and tripped over his own feet, so he stared at his shoes tagging behind Hanamaki’s until he reached the door.

“You hungry, or just tired?” Hanamaki draped a blanket over Matsukawa’s shoulders as he started the engine and placed his matcha in the drink holder. Matsukawa shivered, gripping the warm fabric tightly and pressing it against his eyes. His head was starting to pound, indicating the beginning of a migraine.

“I just wan’ sleep,” Matsukawa muttered, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the light coming beyond his eyelids. It did little to help the pain, but he knew it was so much worse when he didn’t do anything about the outside stimulus. “M’sorry, Hiro.”

Hanamaki ruffled Matsukawa’s matted hair. “Now, don’t be saying that. You’re not feeling well, so you should be resting up.” He kissed the top of Matsukawa’s head, tenderly. “I love you, illness or no illness.”

Matsukawa buried his face into Hanamaki’s shoulder as soon as he stepped out of the car, only lifting his head when they were both inside the building. Their flat wasn’t too big, but cosy to sleep in and watch Netflix when Matsukawa was able for it. “Want me to get a heat pack?” Matsukawa groaned in response, holding up a shaky thumbs up.

He pushed himself under the covers desperately, pressing his face into his pillow. All of his pain spots thrummed, and his migraine had reached its peak. His sleep schedule was messed up, but he needed to take the rest before he became physically incapable of it.

When Matsukawa woke up, it was too dark to make out anything but sounds and textures. His side was slightly warm, from where he had presumably rolled onto the heat pack while he was asleep. He had no recollection of Hanamaki bringing it to him, but he had to thank him later.

About fifteen seconds of relief lasted, until his upper body started to burn intensely. He ripped off the covers that made the burning worse, hot tears welling up in his eyes. “Hiro,” he called out instinctively to the person that gave him peace, but he wasn’t beside him on the bed. Panic seeped into his skin, eliciting a sob out of him.

“It hurts,” Matsukawa gave a whimper, opening his mouth to let out a pained cry. What came out was more than he expected. A splash of tea and bile dripped from his hands that flew up last minute to contain the mess, and onto the bedsheets. The burn spread to his throat, scorching hot and dripping.

The light flickered on, and the sudden light made Matsukawa gag again. “Issei, shit!” Hanamaki was beside him as quickly as he appeared, pulling him away from the soiled blankets. “Breathe in, two, three, four. You’re okay.” Matsukawa sucked in a breath, then started to cry harder. “I’m sorry for not noticing for so long.”

“I threw up on our sheets. _Again_.” Matsukawa sighed in his self-defeating tone. He felt disgusting, no matter how many times Hanamaki would assure him it wasn’t his fault.

Hanamaki shrugged, rubbing his back sympathetically. “They were ugly anyway. You can take the couch, if you think you can sleep.” He handed Matsukawa a new t-shirt and shorts, helping him out of his stained ones. “Is the pain still really bothersome?”

“It’s been hurting all this week,” Matsukawa said bitterly. “I just want to _sleep_ , Takahiro. I’m just so fucking tired, it’s killing me…!” He broke into a round of sobbing, cursing his uncooperative body to hell. The only escape from constant pain was sleeping, but he couldn’t keep his eyes closed when his body hurt so much.

“God, I’m so sorry Issei. I’d make it all go away if I could. You don’t deserve any of this,” Hanamaki whispered, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend tentatively. “I’ll stay with you until you can sleep. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You’re my boyfriend, Hiro. You should be having fun with me, not staying at home because my body’s being a dick.”

“ _Especially_ because I’m your boyfriend.” Hanamaki pecked Matsukawa’s cheek, handing him another heat pack. “Come on. Let’s try the sleeping thing again, yeah?” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos pls,,,, I'm a thirsty hoe for feedback


	4. "No, stop!": Kindaichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kindaichi never did anything wrong, but a certain third year begs to differ. Accused falsely of something by someone who could harm him might mean the end of a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shsjsjsjjs lemme work on day 5 immediately after I post this because I'm still behind and my weekend is gonna be busy as hell, dammit

Sipping his barley tea, Kindaichi waited for Kunimi to arrive to their usual spot. It was lunch break, and with Kindaichi having a larger stride and overall motivation, he was the one who always arrived first. He unwrapped his yakisoba bread and bit into it, chewing up bits of red ginger and noodles.

As he bit down the bread until there was half of it left, Kindaichi suddenly felt a hand tap his shoulder. He ignored it, expecting Kunimi to pop out under him for a bite of his bread anyway. “Give up, Kunimi. I’m not going to give you my lunch.” He sassed, tossing the bread from one hand to the other.

“Oi,”

Kindaichi’s head snapped back in surprise. Whoever the voice belonged to, it wasn’t Kunimi. He didn’t recognise the student, who was almost as tall as he was. He could only tell that he was a third year, from the colour of the crest on their name tag.

“H-hello.” Kindaichi bowed nervously, taking a step backwards. He hoped he didn’t come off as rude, with the way he’d talked to his upperclassman the way he did with his best friend. “Sorry. I thought you were my friend.”

“You _thought_?” The student flicked Kindaichi’s forehead, speaking in an almost patronising way. Kindaichi didn’t like the way his senpai was speaking to him, when they had only encountered each other for the first time right there and then. He tied his hands behind his back, gripping his fingers nervously.

“I guess you also _thought_ I wouldn’t find out that you snitched on me about the exam answer sheets.” His finger dug into Kindaichi’s chest with every word, and Kindaichi’s eyes immediately filled with fear. “What else have you thought about, kid? Why don’t you share it with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” Kindaichi squeaked, hands trembling behind his back. It was true that he’d heard a rumour about students who cheated during the exams, but he’d never discovered who they were. In a split second, he realised how much trouble he was in.

The student grabbed Kindaichi’s collar, tugging it so that he stumbled forwards. “I don’t treat liars kindly. You’ll soon discover that,” he hissed, his voice malicious and controlling. “I’m sure you don’t like liars either, hmm? What’s your name, tall-ass?”

“Kindaichi Yuutarou,” Kindaichi gulped, adding a shaky “Senpai,” at the end. “I’m not lying, I- I swear!” He cried out, frantically babbling to prove his innocence. He got a bad vibe from the student, and they were in an area quiet enough for Kunimi. Nobody would hear him calling out.

The upperclassman’s expression remained stoic, unreadable. Kindaichi’s legs screamed at him to run, but his gut told him that would make it so much worse when he was caught. “Are you sure, Kindaichi? My _friend_ doesn’t lie. Are you implying that my friend is a liar?”

“No! I’m not, I’m sorry-!” Kindaichi was interrupted with a punch to the shoulder. He lost footing and stumbled backwards, hitting the back of the head against the wall. His breath caught in his throat, leaving him breathless before he was kicked in the stomach. 

“ _What_ did I say about liars?” The student grabbed a fistful of Kindaichi’s hair and yanked sharply, causing him to reel to the side. Kindaichi let out a frightened gasp, his stomach and shoulder throbbing from the violent outburst. The kick had knocked all the wind out of him, and tears of pain gathered in his eyes.

Panic overtook Kindaichi. He was cornered against the wall, and the other student was fully convinced that he had snitched on him about some cheating incident. “It wasn’t me, senpai! Please, stop!” His screams were met with anger. The hand gripping his hair moved in a swift downward motion, slamming his head into the ground.

“Stop squealing like a fucking pig. I’m really angry right now, Kindaichi. You’d understand, wouldn’t you? After all, you’re the one who **_fucked it all up!_** ”

Before Kindaichi could lift his head, the toe of a shoe rammed into the left side of his face. Blood pooled in his mouth and leaked from his nose. He hurled himself off the ground instinctively to spit the blood out before he could choke, only angering the third year further.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know! I’m not lying!” Kindaichi exclaimed, fear increasing his volume. Tears and blood flowed off his face, but the student didn’t seem to care. A foot hovered over his hand, his spiking hand, that now had a shoe resting on it lightly. “No, stop! Please, not my hand!”

Kindaichi’s desperate pleas were rendered futile. The third year grinded his foot into his hand, ignoring his cries of agony that reached a crescendo. The skin broke as the heel slowly drove into his hand, and Kindaichi could imagine his bones giving way, shattering, rendering it impossible to play again.

“It hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_! Please, no more! No-“ 

A final, decisive grind was inflicted upon Kindaichi. The scream that came out of him didn’t sound like the Kindaichi anyone knew, but a destroyed and terrified someone that nobody knew. He didn’t stop until his throat was scraped raw, not even when his face was kicked continuously.

His eyes remained half-lidded, and he had no idea if the third year had left him to suffer or watched him silently. He wasn’t in the condition to care. His hand was drenched with blood, and the taste of metal was all over his tongue. He must have cut the inside of his cheek.

Kindaichi sobbed, coughing out tears and spit tinted red onto the ground. His whole hand was in incredible pain, and he couldn’t move any of his fingers without crying out. He couldn’t bear to lift his right eyelid, that had started to swell after the numerous blows it had suffered from.

“Kindaichi, where are you? I texted you,” Kunimi called out, and Kindaichi’s eyes immediately snapped open. He wanted to scream that he was there, he was lying on the ground bleeding and injured, but the words didn’t come. Instead, what came out was a pathetic moan, barely audible to himself.

“Kunimi,” he forced himself to speak louder, tears of relief flooding down his bruised cheeks. “I’m here, Kunimi, I’m here!” He exclaimed, wincing in pain as his throat burned from too much screaming. His body couldn’t move properly, so he was entirely dependent on Kunimi to find him.

Footsteps grew closer to his head, until a gasp confirmed that Kunimi was beside him. “Kindaichi, what the fuck.” Kunimi cradled Kindaichi’s head in his arms, staring in horror at his hands that became quickly soaked in blood. “Those injuries… They’re really bad, Kindaichi. Who did this to you? _Who_ hurt you like this?!”

Kindaichi immediately tensed up at the memory of the third year and what he’d beaten him up for. He shook his head as best as he could, while Kunimi pressed tissues to his nose and gently pried his mouth open to look for cuts and chipped teeth.

“It’s okay, Kindaichi. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me right now,” Kunimi’s voice trembled with rage, even more so when Kindaichi whimpered at every touch despite handling him as gently as possible. “Where does it hurt the most, Kindaichi?”

“My hand,” Kindaichi groaned, and immediately saw the look of horror cross Kunimi’s eyes. It had to be really bad if Kunimi was concerned with the amount of damage his hand had taken. “Volleyball,” Kindaichi rasped out. “Am I still going to be able to play volleyball?”

“Of course that’s what you worry about, dammit.” Kunimi swept his fringe up in exasperation, digging into his bag for his phone. “I’m going to call someone so they can get some medical help for you. I’m not going to let it get any worse, okay?”

“An’- and you? Where are you going to be?”

Kunimi sighed softly, brushing Kindaichi’s forehead. “I’ll be staying right here. I’m not going to leave you on your own when you’re in this much pain.” He whispered, silently plotting the murder of whoever dared to leave Kindaichi bleeding on the ground.

“Mmm. I love you, Kunimi.”

“So do I, Kindaichi. You’re going to be okay.” Kunimi stroked Kindaichi’s unique hair while dialling Oikawa’s number, knowing he would bring Iwaizumi along, who would be just as on board with destroying Kindaichi’s assailant as Oikawa and Kunimi.

Messing with Kunimi Akira’s friends meant a death sentence. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated please and than you


	5. Poisoning: Lev

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Innocent cupcakes can just mean a lot of suffering for a certain overconfident string bean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsjjsjsn im late I'm late again aaaaaaaaa

“You got something on your face there, Lev.”

Kuroo’s offhanded comment caused the entire team to stare at the first year, who had a noticeable blob of cream on his chin and the side of his mouth. “Ah, this?” Lev giggled sheepishly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I was given cupcakes today! They were very good.”

“Ooh, by who? Someone from your class?” Kuroo queried curiously, grinning devilishly. “Does our string bean have a secret admirer?”

“You lucky bastard, Lev!” Taketora gave Lev a dig in the ribs, screaming in comical anguish. “How come my kouhai has an admirer and I don’t?” He wailed, slumping down to the floor in utter defeat.

“I don’t actually know who gave it to me,” Lev shrugged. “It was in my locker, and it was in a decorated box, so I figured it was for me.”

A strangled cry erupted from Taketora, while Inuoka and Shibayama let out a gasp of surprise. “Haiba-kun, that’s amazing! Someone made you cupcakes and left them in your locker!” Inuoka parroted, jumping up and down excitedly. “I wanna find out more about this.”

“I don’t know.” Kenma lifted his head, opening his mouth for the first time during the practice. “It seems a little strange to me.”

Lev puffed his cheeks out in a pout. “Strange? Is it so strange that Nekoma’s ace finally gets the recognition he deserves?” He grumbled, sticking out his lower lip.

“Oi!” Yaku gave Lev a swift chop to the head. “If you call yourself an ace, then do something about those sloppy receives of yours!” He grunted, visibly irked at Lev’s cockiness.

“Yaku’s jealous because someone tried to court his _boyfriend_!” Kuroo singsonged, and Yaku aimed a kick at his shin quick as a flash. “Ow, you shit! That hurt! Yakkun, be nice to your poor captain!” Kuroo made his voice squeaky like a rusty door, earning a disgusted face from Yaku.

“Alright, come on. I’m sure we can discuss Lev’s fortunate discovery after practice too.” Kai clapped his hands twice, signalling that the chattiness had to end for now. A chorus of ‘okay’ rang out, and everybody split up into groups to practice each of what they needed to brush up on.

Yaku beckoned to Lev as he bounced a volleyball on the floor, glancing at him with a look to make sure he wouldn’t think about planning escape from his overdue receives. “Get ready. You’re doing fifty before you even attempt to ask for a spike.” He gestured for him to go on the other side of the court.

“But I wanna spike, Yaku-san! Pleeease!” Lev whimpered, staring at Yaku like a kicked puppy. Yaku remained neutral, biting back a sarcastic comment about how he acted way too childish for someone so big.

“Too bad. If you want to spike, do something that’ll make me change my mind.” Yaku pulled Shibayama over to train the two first years simultaneously, which was not a difficult feat due to the cooperative nature of the shorter first year.

Lev blew a raspberry, earning a disapproving look from Yaku. “Well, I will! I’ll definitely show you something that’ll blow you away!” Yaku was tempted to tell Lev that he’d blown him away more times doing something other than volleyball than not, but held his remark.

“Alright. Enough chitchat, I want to see your receives. Shibayama and _Lev_ , get into proper position!” Yaku started barking out orders as soon as Lev started showing off to Shibayama, throwing a volleyball at him to catch him out. “I thought you were going to blow me away, Lev.” He raised his brows teasingly.

Lev grunted as his arms hit the volleyball in the shape of a sloppy receive. “I wasn’t ready, Yaku-san! Not fair!” He huffed, as Yaku ignored his complaints and tossed the ball over to Shibayama.

“Official matches aren’t fair.” Yaku shut Lev down quickly, throwing another volleyball at him to keep him busy. “Come on. You can do some spikes if you finish these, you dumb bean.” He rolled his eyes with his hands on his hips, flipping off Kuroo after he made a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Lev nodded, and Yaku was relieved to watch him get his head into practice. Despite how whiny the first year could be sometimes, he had a lot of potential as a blocker and spiker, and Yaku wanted to watch him grow into Nekoma’s ace worthy of his title.

As Yaku threw a ball at Lev for him to receive, he noticed the boy’s face become paler and paler. He stumbled when he tried to receive, and started to breathe in rapid, shaking breaths. “Hey, Lev, maybe you should slow down.” Yaku hurried over to the other side of the court, observing his boyfriend grip his stomach tightly.

“My stomach started hurting a few minutes ago,” Lev whispered, his voice barely audible. “I think- I think I need to sit out.” He admitted, doubling over in pain. Yaku’s gaze instantly turned worried. Lev never admitted his pain. There had to be something really wrong if he was being so open about it.

“Alright. Is it at a particular area, say, on your lower right side?”

Lev shook his head, as Yaku lifted him up gently and supported his weight as he helped him over to the sidelines. “What’s the pain like? Is it like a cramping sort of pain, or something sharper?”

“I don’t know,” Lev sobbed, and there were tears in his eyes already. “It just throbs all around here,” he rubbed his lower stomach with a wince, “and I feel sick.”

Yaku held Lev’s hand and attempted to take him to the bathroom, after he realised how sick he looked. “We’re going out to the bathrooms. He’s not feeling good, all of a sudden.” Yaku whispered to Kuroo, who eyed Lev with concern.

“Is it your stomach? Do you think you ate something- oh, god, Lev. Don’t tell me-“Kuroo cut himself off with an exasperated sigh, realising the various things the situation implied. “Was it whatever you ate that was in your locker?”

Kenma looked up from his setting practice and stepped over to the three slowly. “I’m hoping it’s not deliberate, if it really was the food. We don’t know how much of what was in it.” He sighed, running through the possible solutions in his head. “If we don’t know what’s poisoning him, there’s not much we can do.”

Lev opened his mouth to ask a bunch of questions, but he couldn’t say anything. He instead darted out of the gymnasium after he realised he was going to be sick, and only just made it to the bathrooms before he was heaving the entire contents of his stomach up into a toilet. “Shit!” Yaku chased him, and it didn’t take much time for him to stay by his side, trying to make him comfortable.

“You’re okay, Lev. Just get it out of your system.” Yaku rubbed Lev’s back slowly, as the first year vomited again. He grabbed some tissues and held them under his chin, wiping off the refuse that dripped from his mouth. He cringed in sympathy, but kept his composure as he comforted Lev as calmly as he could.

It took a while before Lev stopped throwing up violently and started to sob into Yaku. “My stomach hurts bad, Yaku-san.” He shivered, appearing a lot smaller than he actually was. “What’s happening to me? Why does it hurt so much?” He queried, and Yaku felt a stab in his chest.

“I don’t know, Lev. Do you know anyone who might wanted to see you like this?” Yaku asked, and Lev tearfully shook his head.

“I- I don’t _know_! I just want my stomach to stop hurting!” Lev wailed indignantly, tears of confusion and hurt dripping off his face. “I just wanna lie down somewhere.”

Yaku let out a sympathetic noise, patting Lev’s head soothingly. “Let’s get you home. I can’t take away the pain, but I’ll be with you until you feel better. Is that okay?”

Lev nodded, grabbing onto Yaku’s arm to stand up. “Will you… will you walk me home?” He averted his eyes guiltily, keeping one arm wrapped around his middle.

“Of course I will.”

They made their way back to the gymnasium to inform Kuroo that Lev was going to head home, and the two other first years immediately headed towards Lev. “Is he okay?” Shibayama asked worriedly, having been practicing alongside Lev until he bolted out of the gymnasium.

“I’m taking him home. He’s in a lot of pain.” Yaku announced, and Kuroo eyed Lev for a few moments before concluding that Yaku’s plan was the best they could do. He gave the okay to take him home, turning to go to the coach before stopping briefly to say something.

“You should probably take Kai with you. If Lev can’t walk or collapses, I don’t think you’ll be able to carry him.”

Yaku threw his hands up in exasperation, muttering a “Fuck you” to Kuroo before agreeing to take Kai with him. It annoyed him that Kuroo was certainly right, and he cursed his stature and how tall Lev was in comparison to him. “Come on. We’re getting this guy home,” Yaku muttered under his breath, “and finishing the guy who did this to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments fuel my soul so please... leave one behind....


	6. Betrayal: Oikawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's made a deal with his devil, believing that it's for the greater good. But when his boyfriend catches onto his wounds and someone else gets hurt in the process, he needs to come up with another solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally less late... I guess? Catch me writing until my eyes are physically incapable of opening. 
> 
> And yes, Chapter 4 is referenced here.

“Hey, look at this! I’ve been waiting for this game to be released for three years.”

Hanamaki smacked Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa’s heads with a gaming magazine, earning various “Geh!” noises from them. Oikawa frowned at Hanamaki, wincing. “Not nice, Makki! Oikawa-san’s hair is gonna be ruined if you treat it so roughly!”

Iwaizumi let out an ugly guffaw. “Your hair already looks like a dying bird, Oikawa. Keep chirping, and maybe they’ll bury you out of sympathy.” He rolled his eyes, throwing Oikawa’s uniform in his face. “We can talk about the game later, Hanamaki. We need to get moving.”

“Fine,” Hanamaki made a farting noise with his mouth pressed to his arm, which only earned him a “Gross, Makki!” from Oikawa and a few pity laughs from his underclassmen. That didn’t squish his hopes, and Hanamaki merrily marched into the gymnasium.

Oikawa’s body throbbed as he threw himself into practice. Every receive that went into his chest made him bite back a soft groan of pain. He pretended not to let his various aches affect his play, but there was no use hiding things to a certain someone, who dragged him off the court after he made a very obviously pained expression after setting.

“Shittykawa, you aren’t as good of an actor as you think.” Iwaizumi stated coldly, his glacial stare piercing into Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa stared down at his feet guiltily, as Iwaizumi gave him a look to let him know that he definitely wasn’t impressed.

“Just say what you want and get it over with, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa didn’t care if he came off as sulky. Maybe he wanted to let Iwaizumi know how much he didn’t like being questioned, especially because Iwaizumi would cut right to the heart of his problems.

Iwaizumi frowned, without a hint of approval at the way Oikawa was acting. He had hidden his pains and sicknesses so many times ever since they were young, Iwaizumi became leery of believing Oikawa every time he insisted that he was “Okay, I’m telling you Iwa-chan. I’m totally fine!” Iwaizumi didn’t feel the need to doubt his gut.

“Is it your knee? Is it bothering you again?” Iwaizumi questioned Oikawa, with a hint of mercy in his tone. If he admitted what was wrong with him at that stage, Iwaizumi was ready to drop the edge to his voice and comfort Oikawa like he did when they were in elementary school, and Oikawa scraped his knees.

Oikawa shook his head, curling in on himself. “It’s not my knee, Iwa-chan.” He muttered, and a flash of genuine misery flashed in his eyes. Iwaizumi’s frown deepened, and Oikawa wished that his best friend wasn’t so good at detecting all the faint changes in his voice and expressions.

“So something _is_ bothering you, after all.” Iwaizumi pressed a finger into Oikawa’s chest, and didn’t miss the pained expression that his setter made. “Spit it out, Oikawa. There’s nothing I’ll judge you for. I’ve seen you glued to the toilet after that stomach bug, it can’t be worse than that.”

Oikawa let out a pathetic snort after Iwaizumi’s light jab at his pride. “We don’t speak of that, Iwa-chan.” He sighed, his momentarily amusement diminishing swiftly. “I can’t talk about it right now,” he whispered desperately, “I’ll talk about it later, I promise.”

“Promise.” Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s hand, letting go after a brief moment. “You have to tell me what’s wrong soon. There’s something going on. I know that much.”

Iwaizumi offered to take Oikawa home after their little discussion. Oikawa had shook his head, saying that he didn’t need all that assistance, but Iwaizumi held his hand for the entirety of the journey, for old times’ sake. Oikawa couldn’t decline the offer, when Iwaizumi was so intent on sticking with him. Despite the fear that sat in his stomach, he felt happy.

“You’re really close with your _boyfriend_ , huh?”

A smug grin was in Oikawa’s face, taunting him. He turned away, refusing to look at the third year. “Piss off. You don’t have a part in our relationship,” he spat. A punch sank into his chest, the same spot that had been struck two days ago. Bruises littered his skin underneath his clothes; rotting green ones, angry red and purple ones in the shape of knuckles.

“Who’d have guessed? The volleyball club’s captain is going out with his ace.” The third year crossed his arms, leaning into Oikawa with a vile smirk on his face. “I could release that secret to just about anyone, Oikawa. You should know that you don’t have the upper hand in this situation.”

Oikawa bit his lip in frustration. He wasn’t out to anyone besides his family and the volleyball team, although the latter mattered less when the entire team was gay for someone playing the same sport as them. “Well, I’ve been keeping my end of the deal. Look- just don’t out me. I don’t need all that right now.”

“Sure thing,” The third year raised his brows. “Anything more you have to add? Before I punch you again, that is.”

“Don’t do anything to Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice was laced with venom, no longer panicked. “He’s some nothing wrong. If you involve him in this, I _will_ find a way to destroy you. And I’ll do it, even if you’ll out me.”

“Always about our precious Iwa-chan, isn’t it?”

A fist violently connected with Oikawa’s side, causing him to bite his cheek to muffle his scream. It hurt like a _bitch_ with his purple bruise already being there, but he wasn’t going to give his bully the satisfaction of watching him in pain.

“Oikawa, it’s been three days,” Iwaizumi said, his brows knitted together to clearly express his concern and annoyance. “You’d better tell me what’s wrong with you. You’re always wincing when we play volleyball. Are you injured, or just not feeling well?”

Oikawa considered lying, but he knew that would bring a whole other assortment of problems onto the table. “Iwa-chan, I think someone knows about our relationship.” He whispered, after checking to make sure that nobody was listening in on him.

“Well, what’s-“ Iwaizumi stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Are they trying to out us? Oikawa, this is serious.”

“Kind of. But he hasn’t, yet.” Oikawa muttered, carefully choosing his words so that he wouldn’t give himself away. “I made a deal with them, so they wouldn’t hurt us with the information in any way.”

Iwaizumi squinted, knowing he was missing a few details that were crucial to helping Oikawa out of the situation. Which became harder, when it directly involved their relationship. “And what’s this deal? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird for the last week or two?”

Just as Oikawa attempted to dodge the question, his phone began playing the tune of an amusement park merrily. “Gotta take this call… It’s from Kunimi-chan. Whatever happened to this world that he starts a phone call? Do you think I’ll come out in one piece?”

“Shut up and take the call, Shittykawa.”

“Fine! Yikes, you’re so harsh Iwa-chan!” Oikawa puffed out his cheeks, answering his chirping phone. “Hey, Kunimi-chan. What’s up?” He put on a jolly voice, only to be immediately interrupted by his panicked kouhai.

“Oikawa-san, I need you to come meet me behind the school right now.” Kunimi’s voice trembled, but also icy cold, like he’d just lost something precious and refused to believe it. “Kindaichi’s hurt, and I think he has a head injury too. I’ve wiped his face, but he was spilling blood everywhere, and-“

Oikawa’s blood ran cold. “I’ll be there right now.” He grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand and dragged him away from his table, his heart beating too fast until he could feel it in his mouth. The whole situation screamed wrong, and at the same time rang disturbingly familiar in his mind.

“Oi, what’s-“

“Kindaichi’s injured. He needs our help. Oh god, Iwa-chan, he’s hurt.” Oikawa let out a sob, breaking into a run as soon as he stepped outside to reach Kunimi and Kindaichi immediately. He couldn’t spare a minute when his beloved kouhai was hurt, and from what he gathered from Kunimi’s words, it had to be something bad.

Oikawa froze when he reached Kunimi, who was desperately trying to tend to Kindaichi with only a wet cloth dabbing at his face. “Oikawa-san, I don’t know who did this to him. He’s really scared, and he won’t tell me what happened.”

“Kindaichi,” Oikawa lifted his kouhai’s head gently, inspecting him for any serious injuries. “I need to know who did this, before we take you to the infirmary. Answer with a nod or a no, okay? Was it a third year, like all this?”

Oikawa made an imitation of the student who beat him up regularly, and the hard flinch Kindaichi gave him confirmed his suspicions. “I’m sorry for making you remember, Kindaichi. You’re gonna be okay now. We’re getting you help right now.” His voice shook, although he did his best to hide it.

_That bastard._

Iwaizumi had sensed that something was wrong, when Oikawa stopped talking after the three of them had lifted Kindaichi up and taken him to the infirmary, a considerable feat given Kindaichi’s size. “Oikawa, you have to talk to me. You’ve been way too strange, even now.”

Iwaizumi was met with Oikawa’s tears eyes staring staring at him, but with a look of blank rage. “They hurt him, Iwa-chan. They betrayed the deal!” He screamed, realising how his actions had directly caused harm to his unsuspecting kouhai. He knew how they were, sticking made-up reasons onto people if they couldn’t find an excuse to beat them up.

“Oikawa, fuck. You need to tell me slowly, because I’m not following. Who betrayed you?”

“The ones that tried to out me,” Oikawa hissed furiously, “they told me if I tolerated being hurt, they wouldn’t do anything-!” He blurted out, in his moment of pure aggravation. He realised he had said too much too late, when Iwaizumi’s eyes changed.

“Tolerated _being hurt_?” Iwaizumi repeated, appalled. “Show me what happened.” Oikawa obliged with a grunt, lifting up his shirt to reveal the discoloured skin and half-healed wounds scattered across his skin. He couldn’t care about it anymore, not when it was all for naught.

“We have to report this. Jesus _fuck_ , Oikawa. You should have told me sooner.”

Oikawa glared. “And what’s to say he wouldn’t have beaten up Kindaichi or anyone else for that matter?”

Iwaizumi roughly flicked Oikawa’s forehead. “Don’t ever hide shit like this again. Ever.” Oikawa could tell that as well as being absolutely furious, Iwaizumi was hurt that Oikawa couldn’t come to him when he was in so much trouble and pain without being able to say it to anyone.

“I know, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry, I am.”

Oikawa pressed his head into Iwaizumi’s chest, and Iwaizumi let him cry into him until he was done. No matter what, he wasn’t going to blame Oikawa one bit for what happened to him. Until his bruises healed and his mind was calmed, Iwaizumi was going to care for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaa  
> I'm evil  
> Comments p l s...


	7. Kidnapping: KuroTsuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Tsukishima can on,y escape from captivity on one condition. 
> 
> It isn't an easy choice for them to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm hoping to get today's one done today, or at least close to finished. Sorry for the low quality.

A throbbing, metallic headache rang deep in Tsukishima’s skull, as if someone had started scratching the side of a bell with a fork. The surroundings were way too unfamiliar for his liking, and panic immediately set in. Waking up with a headache in an unfamiliar place was never a good sign, according to everything he had ever experienced as a gang leader.

“Awake, are we?”

Tsukishima’s spine chilled at the voice behind him. That too, was unfamiliar. He shivered in anxious anticipation, assuming that he had been abducted by the man standing beside him now. “What did you bring me for?” He mumbled, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer.

“Curiosity has always been a strange thing to play with,” the man shrugged, not giving Tsukishima a straight answer. “You should really look behind you. Not very observant, are we Tsukki?” The man added, and Tsukishima’s head instantly snapped back to see what the man was talking about.

“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima’s jaw dropped. His boyfriend was knocked out behind him, with dried blood caked on his face. “You bastard. What is wrong with you?” Tsukishima growled, attempting to reach over to Kuroo and cursing when he realised how tight the mechanical restraints bound him.

The man tutted, adding to Tsukishima’s irritation. “I figured it would add to your anguish if there was someone you love involved.” He kicked Kuroo’s stomach from the side, forcing him to open his eyes with a pained groan. “After all, you don’t seem to care much for many people, hm?”

“Tsukki?” Kuroo murmured, causing Tsukishima to stop before he could fire back a comment. “What’re we doing here?”

Kuroo stirred, opening his eyes and furrowing his brows in confusion when he failed to stand up. His confusion turned to horror when he saw the restraints attached to his wrists. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t listen to this. I’m only saying this once, so listen carefully.” The man took out a timer, placing it beside Kuroo.

“You have fifteen minutes for one to render the other unconscious.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened. “You fucking son of a-“ his insult was cut short when a kick slammed under his chin. He let out a cry of pain, his head jerking backward from the impact.

His assailant set the timer and headed towards the door, leaving Tsukishima in his helpless rage as he left. “Good luck. I’ll let you imagine what will happen if you fail.” The restrains around Tsukishima’s arm became undone with the press of a button, and he spared no time to lunge towards the door.

It was too late. A metallic clang signalling his despair sounded, forcing him on his knees helplessly. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered, angry tears pooling in his eyes. Even as he cried, he knew the timer was still going. He could save his emotions for later.

For now, he wasn’t the Tsukishima Kei that Kuroo knew and loved. He was Karasuno-gumi’s gang leader.

“Did you hear what he said?” Tsukishima eyed Kuroo cautiously, knowing he couldn’t have him know about his secret. He wasn’t supposed to get caught up in a rumble against two yakuza groups. 

“We’re gonna.. have to do it, right?” Kuroo mumbled drowsily. He was still groggy, and Tsukishima knew he could use that to his advantage. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Tsukki. You do it to me.” He offered, without a second’s hesitation.

“You… You trust me not to kill you by accident.” Tsukishima raised his eyebrow, making his way over to Kuroo. “It will be painful, you know. Knocking someone out isn’t something I’ve ever done before.” Tsukishima lied. He had done a lot more to enemy captives without batting an eye.

Kuroo let out a weak chuckle. “Glad to know that my Tsukki isn’t a serial killer or something.” He glanced at the timer, dragging himself up by his elbows. _If only he knew_ , Tsukishima shook his head. “Just make it quick.”

“I will,” Tsukishima nodded, hoping to offer Kuroo a shred of relief at least. “I’m sorry it’s had to come to this,” he sighed deeply, placing his hands around Kuroo’s neck. “I didn’t ever want you to get involved.”

“This isn’t your fault, Tsukki.” Kuroo reached up, caressing Tsukishima’s cheek with his thumb. “Do it. We don’t have much time to get it done.”

But it was enough, for Tsukishima to knock Kuroo out and possibly kill him if he wasn’t careful. It was his fault, if being a gang leader and being captured was something he could have prevented Kuroo from getting into. “Right,” he muttered. “Just don’t struggle too much.”

“I’ll try, my dear Tsukki.”

Tsukishima tightened his grip, all at once so that the job could be done quicker. Kuroo’s eyes immediately filled with panic, and his mouth started opening and closing for him to futilely attempt taking in air.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo-san.” Tsukishima dug his fingers into Kuroo’s skin, staring straight into his boyfriend’s wide, bulging eyes. His face started turning a funny shade of red, as he struggled violently in Tsukishima’s grip. Although Tsukishima was very experienced, restraining his boyfriend while he strangled him wasn’t something he wished to do.

In a split second, Kuroo jerked sideways violently and took in a breath, forcing Tsukishima to strangle him harder. “Please, Kuroo-san, just pass out,” Tsukishima cried bitterly, his tears flowing freely onto Kuroo’s reddening skin. His boyfriend was making it harder for himself, and he had to cut his air supply off before he could do it again.

With one final terrified look, Kuroo became limp in his arms. The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than twenty seconds, and yet Tsukishima’s heart thudded in his ribcage. Kuroo wasn’t dead, Tsukishima was sure of that. He had to be alive. But the doubt crossed his mind, telling him how he could have very well murdered his boyfriend without hesitation.

The door unlocked, but Tsukishima paid no attention to it. He screamed, his elbows digging into the concrete. “Kuroo-san, I’m sorry!” His strangled cries filled the room, reminding him of how soft he had become for the man with the bad bedhead.

“I’m so sorry,” Tsukishima whispered, cradling Kuroo’s unconscious body in his arms, the arms that he used to hurt him. He slung Kuroo over his shoulder, whipping out his knife to be ready for sudden attacks. “Let’s get out of here, Kuroo-san. Somewhere that’s not here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments fuel my soul so please do leave one!


	8. Fever: KuroShou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both of these sassy boyfriends get their fair share of suffering, when they both come down with something together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. I've done it! I've done it!

Daishou sneezed into his tissues, grumbling with a disgruntled look on his puffy, flushed face. “I swear to god. I’m going to fucking kill that bastard from chem if I die.” He hissed, his voice hoarse and dripping with venom that wasn’t beaten up by his cold.

“I don’t know, Daishou. I think we’re gonna need to do something about our fever first.” Kuroo sniffled from beside him, his nose a painful red from the times he’d wiped it. “Ahh, man. I think I’m seeing my great-grandfather. I’m slippin’ away, Suguru…”

Without hesitation, Daishou flung the empty box of painkillers in Kuroo’s face. “Hey!” Came his boyfriend’s cry, nasal and miserable.

“You’re not gonna pull that on me. Not until you pay me back for the juice I bought you yesterday.”

“It was a hundred and ten yen!” Kuroo exclaimed indignantly, sending himself into a coughing fit. “Can we both please agree to making tea for now? It’d probably help with my throat.” He pleaded, and Daishou obliged with his brows knitted tightly together.

“Alright. Come on, lift your ginormous ass off the sofa.” Daishou crawled over to Kuroo as if he were some villain in a low-budget horror film, clambering onto his sweat-soaked body. After taking a moment to admire his boyfriend’s ass, Daishou drew his hand back and smacked it as hard as he could.

Kuroo let out a shrill scream, tumbling off the sofa and hitting the carpet with a thud. “Dude, you absolute _fucker_. I feel about a million times worse. Did you forget how many rounds we went for last night?” He rasped out, his voice even more scratchy than before.

“Fuck, that’s probably why we’ve both come down with this one _hell_ of a cold.” Daishou mused, using the wall to keep himself upright as Kuroo gave him kicks in the shin that were admittedly well-deserved. “I guess this is it. Death by fucking, Tetsu. That’s gotta be some weird world record.” 

“Just shut up and help me make this fucking tea.”

Fumbling inside the cupboard, Kuroo placed two mugs onto the counter and started the kettle. “Get me honey, Suguru. Get me a whole fucking bunch of honey. Dump the entire jar in. My throats feels like Lucifer is scraping on it with his devilish pitchfork.” He let out a drawn-out groan, holding his head against the freezer.

“It’s a freezer, Daishou. Why won’t it freeze my brain?!”

Daishou coughed a bunch of disgusting phlegm into a tissue, discarding the entire thing immediately after. “Maybe because you’re banging your head against a freezer door like an idiot, you idiot.”

“And who’s fucking that idiot?” Kuroo bit back, swaying his hips in a moment of indignation. Daishou hit him in the face, with a tea bag this time. “Chamomile. I guess your taste in tea isn’t totally garbage.”

“Touché.” Daishou rested his head onto the counter, letting out a moan of pleasure at the cool surface touching his boiling forehead. “Still, the sex was great, Tetsu.”

“Mm,” Kuroo nodded, popping the tea bags into their matching Slytherin mugs. “It was a great fuck, all right.”

“Superb.”

“Amazing.”

“Incredible.”

“Monster dong.”

Daishou snorted, wobbling over to the boiling kettle that reminded him of what must have been going on side his fried brain. “Let’s taste this tea. With all the honey we can manage to put in without making it change into plasma.” He murmured, holding the kettle with all the care a feverish college student could take and pouring the hot water into the mugs.

Kuroo drunkenly grabbed the honey, chucking it into his mug with all the angry, delirium-fuelled rage he could muster up. “There we go. Sweeter than- than-“

“Your ass.”

“Yeah, my ass.” Kuroo clapped his hands, cursing as he let his hand linger on the boiling hot mug for too long. “Come on. I don’t think I can stand too much longer without dropping this thing on my foot. Not even my slippers can save me from this scalding hot tea.”

Daishou and Kuroo settled on the sofa, wrapped in blankets and hoarding a supply of painkillers and heat pads. “This tea is just so… so damn sweet.” Kuroo blew bubbles in his tea, his head tilting back languidly as he leaned onto Daishou.

“I know, Kuroo. Maybe we shoulda laid off the honey, babe.” Daishou replied, completely delirious from the high fever. “At this rate, we’re going to stay at home tomorrow too.” He coughed into his palm, wiping it as he gave a groan of disgust.

Kuroo rubbed Daishou’s back lazily as he hacked up his lung, holding his tea so that he wouldn’t end up spraying it everywhere. “Definitely, in your case. You look absolutely awful, Suguru.” He swept his fringe away with a finger, wiping his sweaty brow tenderly.

Daishou realised that he wasn’t talking to the sleep-drunk, sick Kuroo but the caring Kuroo that was genuinely concerned for him. “Will you kiss it better, Tetsu?” He bit Kuroo’s finger childishly, and watched him draw back with a surprised yelp in satisfaction.

“I swear to god, Daishou Suguru-“ Kuroo grabbed his own hair and pushed it back out of his eyes, sparing no time before he was all over Daishou, rubbing his face into his chest and pressing their lips together when Daishou didn’t draw back.

“You know you love me,” Daishou teased, twiddling with a lock of Kuroo’s hair as he let him have his way with his kisses and cuddles. He stifled a cough into his sleeve, adjusting his cold compress on his head so that Kuroo wouldn’t accidentally knock it off.

Kuroo stared up at Daishou, flashing a grin that spread from one of his crimson cheeks to the other. “I looove yoooou, Suguru.” Daishou knew he was talking to the delirious Kuroo again, and one touch under his neck confirmed that his fever was going up. “I love you _thiiiis_ much!” He threw his arms out, smacking a box of tissues off the sofa.

Kuroo ended up finishing Daishou’s tea as well as his own, after his boyfriend insisted that plasma tea wasn’t good enough for his worn down body and settled for Pocari Sweat instead. “We need to take medicine, Daishou. It’ll probably make us feel at least a little less shittier.”

“Eh,” came Daishou’s reply. “I don’t know. Doesn’t the virus develop immunity to medicine if you take too much of it?”

“It’s not too much,” Kuroo insisted, pouring cough syrup and fever reducer into shot glasses that came from seemingly nowhere. “And besides, I think I have the right to take my damn medicine after suffering for this long.” He downed the medicine without hesitation, yelling “Shots!” as he did so.

Daishou crosses his arms with a huff. “I think you’re supposed to eat something before you-“ he cut himself off with his own coughing- “take that, anyway.” He informed Kuroo, a little too late. Daishou was still going to eat something before putting any medicine into his system, since he was responsible unlike Kuroo.

On second thoughts, he decided that having sex with his boyfriend after feeling unwell wasn’t such a responsible idea at all. Still, he nibbled a slice of toast before he took the right amount of medicine for his cough that refused to die down.

“I’m pretty sure that tea counts as food, Daishou. I don’t think it was in a liquid state,” Kuroo muttered, laying down on the sofa so that his entire body took up the piece of furniture. “There was so much honey in that, I might as well have swallowed an entire bee’s nest.”

A few hours later, Kuroo was really regretting not listening to Daishou’s advice before taking his medicine. “Suguru, I don’t feel good.” He placed an arm around Daishou’s neck, his eyes screwing shut miserably as he tried to ignore the waves of pain that came with swallowing the medicine on an empty stomach.

“I’m not surprised, you stupid bedhead. I’m not going to even hesitate telling you I told you so.” Daishou threw his hands up in exasperation, rubbing Kuroo’s shoulder to comfort him anyway. They often helped each other out after their bad decisions. It was one of their ways of bonding and staying together, which definitely became a lot more interesting when both of them had colds from hell at the same time.

To Daishou’s relief, Kuroo’s stomach pain had stopped before they could reach the peak of disaster. “This whole getting sick thing isn’t working. I’d much rather be suffering in my classes,” Kuroo groaned, his mood swings all over the place because of sickness.

“You don’t say,” Daishou whipped back sarcastically. “But spooning is great, and you’re not going to convince me otherwise.” He stated, wriggling into Kuroo until he was comfortable in his arms. “Now cuddle me. I love having my idiot boyfriend hold me.”

“Asshole.” Kuroo punched Daishou’s arm, puffing out his cheeks at him childishly. “You know I can’t say no to your stupid mug.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments will always make me happy.


	9. Stranded: Yachi, Kageyama, Sugawara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yachi wakes up on the beach, after what was supposed to b a cruise trip turns into a shipwrecked disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god   
> Please pretend this isn't all over the place

The waves lapped at Yachi’s skin, dampening her summer clothes until she stirred awake. The first thing she wondered was why she was lying down on something gritty, and not on a comfortable, fluffy bed beside her girlfriend. When she opened her eyes, the first thing that caught her eye was a piece of seaweed. Which was another thing that didn’t add up, because she was meant to be on a cruise ship, and not a beach.

“Kiyoko-senpai?” She lifted herself off the ground, wincing as she realised her arms were scraped up from whatever had happened to her in the process of being washed ashore. To her relief, she wasn’t alone, but nobody seemed to know what was going on.

The truth was set out in front of her. She was stranded somewhere, with no means to go home to Miyagi. “Oh, no.” She was already starting to panic, which wasn’t a good idea but not something she could help. Swallowing down the anxiety, Yachi forced herself to regain her composure and sort out her priorities.

Deciding it would be helpful if she had someone to converse with, she started to walk down the beach with her shoes thankfully still present. A few shells crunched beneath her feet as she stared down the horizon, but it wasn’t helpful to see so many people floating in the sea, alive or dead. She tore her eyes away, letting out a small sob.

She had no way of knowing Kiyoko’s safety, which unnerved her tremendously. The people washed up on the shore were in better condition than the ones floating in the water, but the blood around some of the water was enough for her to know she was lucky to survive.

A familiar head of dark hair caught Yachi’s eye. “Kageyama-kun!” She ran up to the tall first year, who lay on the sand groaning. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She questioned him nervously, looking for traces of injury on his body.

“Wha…? Yachi-san? Where are we?” Kageyama’s face became contorted with pain as he attempted to sit up. “Shit, my leg.” His exposed skin had a gash down it, and a piece of the ship was lodged deeply into the back of his knee. “Where did the others go?”

Yachi’s face paled at the sight of her friend’s blood. “I don’t know, I only just woke up…” she looked around, trying to figure out what she could do for Kageyama. “I think we got shipwrecked. I don’t know where we are, but it can’t be far away from the Touhoku region.”

“Yacchan? Kageyama too?”

A familiar, soothing voice caught Yachi’s attention. “Sugawara-san!” She embraced the third year into a tight hug, tears of relief cascading down her scraped cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she reluctantly let go of the hug after Sugawara silently refused to stop holding her. With a hasty apology, Sugawara moved to Kageyama to cuddle him too.

“What’s happened to everyone else?” Kageyama asked, awkwardly returning the hug. He looked around from where he was as best as he could, a worried frown crossing his face. “Where’s Hinata? And that bastard Tsukishima? Daichi-san?”

“Easy now. We need to take care of that leg first, Kageyama.” Sugawara stated calmly, tearing off a piece of his shirt and wrapping it tightly around Kageyama’s leg. “I’m sorry,” he said as Kageyama let out a loud moan of discomfort. “We need someone more trained to take that out of there. I probably shouldn’t touch… that.” He gestured towards the foreign object in Kageyama’s leg.

“What about you, Yacchan? Are you hurt?”

Yachi jumped, then shook her head vigorously. “I’m just a little scraped up, please don’t concern yourself with me!” She said, shaking her hands rapidly. “Is anyone else with you? Are they hurt?”

“No, you guys are the first ones I encountered.” Sugawara admitted. Yachi swallowed nervously, assuming the worst already. If it were just the three of them from Karasuno that had survived, they would have to work together to live on the island until rescue came. She didn’t even know how to start a fire, or make herself useful at all.

Sugawara wrapped a gentle arm around Yachi’s shoulder, as if he knew what was going on inside her head. “Hey. Even if we don’t find the others today, I’m sure there’s more of us scattered around this place. For now, we have to keep ourselves as safe as we can.” He lifted Kageyama without hesitation, checking his expression to make sure he wasn’t hurting him.

“You’re right,” Yachi nodded, feeling a little better. It astonished her to see Sugawara lift Kageyama so effortlessly. Even if they had endured a large amount of training, Kageyama seemed a lot bigger than what Sugawara could carry. “We should probably start a fire and find a shelter. If there’s no water source, we’ll have to try to purify the saltwater.”

“Yeah. I don’t see anyone around the limestone cave, so we could use that as our shelter.” Sugawara led the way, keeping his footsteps calm and slow so that Yachi could keep up without trotting and so Kageyama could stay comfortable. “Even if the weather gets bad, it won’t be as uncomfortable as outside.”

Kageyama held on tightly to Sugawara, blood almost soaking through his bandages. “It hurts,” he heaved a pained sigh, resting his head onto his senpai’s shoulder. He looked like he was going to burst into tears. Yachi felt like crying too. She missed her mother already, and she could imagine Sugawara and Kageyama missed their family too.

“I know,” Sugawara swept Kageyama’s fringe, placing him down onto the hard surface of the rock as they entered the vacant cave. The sky was darkening around them, and there wasn’t much they could do without risking injury. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to get some supplies from the wreck.”

Yachi and Kageyama stayed silent, not adding anything to the conversation. They remained sitting without words, except Kageyama who rested his head on the ground. It looked uncomfortable, but sitting up wasn’t an option for him.

A dripping sound echoed in the cave, and Yachi was convinced that he was hearing things at first. But when the soft sound of liquid hitting solid became louder, she realised that it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her. It was raining.

“We can get water, Sugawara-san!” Yachi announced triumphantly, tottering over to the entrance of the cave to check for herself how heavily it was raining. Sugawara lifted Kageyama up smoothly and followed her outside, setting Kageyama beside the entrance so he had something to lean on.

Although they didn’t have containers to store the water, they all took off their shoes and left them on the ground to collect whatever extra they could get. “It’s an amazing coincidence,” Sugawara mused, sitting down cross-legged and throwing his head back to catch the rain in his mouth.

Yachi blinked in acknowledgment, letting the drops of water bounce onto her tongue. Her hair was drenched and unevenly spread out, but the coolness was soothing on her skin. She couldn’t imagine how hard the next few days would be, but with Kageyama and Sugawara at her side, it all felt less painful to deal with.

 


	10. Bruises: Hanamaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki's little habits never go unnoticed by Matsukawa.  
> But the reason for them is a lot darker than Matsukawa anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaa  
> This is really short and it's far from perfect...  
> I hope you like it anyways, I'm running on quantity over quality at this point 
> 
> WARNING WARNING  
> *******DOMESTIC ABUSE TW**********

It was all the little things Matsukawa picked up that made him uneasy.

Hanamaki started to arrive first every practice, every day without fail. No matter how fast Matsukawa ran just to try and catch him out upon arrival, Hanamaki always waited for him, fully changed into his uniform. “I swear to god, you’re like that blue hedgehog in that video game!” Matsukawa had teased him, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“His name is Sonic,” Hanamaki pointed out, grinning sheepishly. Even after Matsukawa stopped bothering to come early, Hanamaki was always the first one in the club room. Nobody else seemed to point it out, so Matsukawa decided to drop it.

* * *

 The low grumble of Hanamaki’s stomach pierced the air as Matsukawa sat down with him to eat lunch. “Dude, how hungry are you?” Matsukawa let out a chuckle, handing Hanamaki one of his wiener breads. “You can have this. You probably want it more than I do.”

“Thanks, Matsu. Best boyfriend ever.” Hanamaki eagerly devoured the wiener bread, getting crumbs and ketchup on the corner of his mouth. “I was starving. I didn’t really eat enough this morning.”

Matsukawa’s face relaxed as Hanamaki gave him a thankful smile. “Anytime, shnookums.” He put on a sappy face, sticking his lips out comically. “Will you give your amazing boyfriend a kiss?”

With a soft huff, Hanamaki swiftly pulled himself closer to Matsukawa and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you, you sap.” Matsukawa loved to see Hanamaki after a kiss. His lips glistened, and his eyes shone in loving enchantment. He couldn’t ask for anyone better.

* * *

Matsukawa sat on Hanamaki’s bed, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulders. It was a lazy Monday evening, with neither of Hanamaki’s parents around. After the third episode of a cheesy rom-com, Matsukawa switched it off knowing that neither of them were paying attention.

They slowly melted into a loving kiss, with Matsukawa taking the lead. He cupped Hanamaki’s face lovingly, watching his every reaction to make sure he was in the mood. Hanamaki shut his eyes, sighing into Matsukawa’s skin.

Kisses trailed down Hanamaki’s neck, making him squeak with pleasure. Matsukawa was enjoying every little reaction that Hanamaki produced. “I love you, Takahiro.” Hanamaki shivered at the mention of his first name, something that Matsukawa reserved for situations like this.

Hanamaki lay down lazily, holding Matsukawa’s hair with one hand and combing through his messy locks. He let out a soft laugh as Matsukawa nibbled the skin by his collarbone. “That tickles, you dork.” Hanamaki giggled, poking Matsukawa’s cheek teasingly.

Matsukawa slid his hands into Hanamaki’s shirt, caressing the flesh that was hot against his palms. “Hana, you’re beautiful.” Matsukawa’s face moved towards Hanamaki’s torso, keeping his touches feather-light to tease his boyfriend just the right amount.

“Matsukawa, wait.” Hanamaki’s eyes widened, his look of bliss changing into one of discomfort in a matter of seconds. He drew back, guilt pooling in his eyes. “I don’t- I can’t-“ he wiped his eyes, sitting up and hugging his knees tight.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Matsukawa placed an arm around Hanamaki, comfortingly. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he whispered, stroking Hanamaki’s hair with a quiet sadness sitting in his eyes. Concern and regret weighed down his chest. How many times had he done something to make his boyfriend uncomfortable without knowing? Did Hanamaki dislike intimate contact?

Hanamaki shook his head miserably, hugging Matsukawa’s side. “It’s not you, Matsukawa. It’s not your fault, I’m sorry!” His bottom lip trembled as he spewed out a bunch of apologies, his tears choking him up. “I love you, I just-“

“Shh,” Matsukawa traced Hanamaki’s back, shushing him. “You tell me if you’re not feeling like it. I never want to force you into something, ever.” Hanamaki nodded wordlessly, holding Matsukawa tightly. The little vibrations he made alerted Matsukawa that he was crying, and it wasn’t about their intimacy.

“I have to tell you something,” Hanamaki sobbed, his tears eyes staring into Matsukawa’s. “I don’t want to talk about it but I know I need to.” Matsukawa nodded in acknowledgment, laying down with Hanamaki’s head resting on his stomach.

Worst case scenarios began running around Matsukawa’s head, but he forced himself to say nothing and let his boyfriend do his talking before he jumped to conclusions. “Okay,” he patted Hanamaki’s back at a steady rhythm, easing the built-up tension. “I’m here to support you, and that won’t ever change.”

“My- my parents hit me,” Hanamaki blurted out, a look of regret crossing his face as soon as he saw the expression on Matsukawa’s face. “They told me it’s for my own good, but yesterday they pushed me down the stairs and everything hurt, and I just wanted to cry!” He cried out, his voice cracking as he let out a scream of pure hurt and betrayal.

“Oh, Takahiro.” Matsukawa’s heart broke, seeing his boyfriend shattered with pieces of his soul scattered around him. “I’m so sorry, babe. I wish I could have helped you sooner.” It made sense as to why Hanamaki didn’t want him to see under his clothes. Matsukawa’s chest boiled with resentment. It didn’t make sense, at all. Hanamaki never did anything anyone could hate him for.

Hanamaki sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Why don’t they love me?” He whispered, his voice desperate and broken. “I love them, but I’m not enough for them.”

“Since when did this start happening?” Matsukawa trembled with rage, the fact that Hanamaki was being hurt my his own parents making him want to cry himself.

“Last month,” Hanamaki admitted, rolling up his shirt. Bruises were plastered across his skin like patchwork, like muddy paint splashed onto a canvas. “It just hurts. I don’t want to be hit anymore, Matsukawa. I- I know I should be trying to be a better kid, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what I’m meant to do!”

Hanamaki burst out crying, violently hitting his sheets with a balled-up fist. “Dammit,” he muttered through his tears, burying his face into Matsukawa’s chest. “Dammit, dammit, damn it all to fucking hell!”

Matsukawa ran his fingers in Hanamaki’s hair, rubbing his palm across the back of his head and the underside of his cheek. “You’re not at fault here, Takahiro. Don’t let anyone tell you that shit, because it’s not true.” He assured his boyfriend hastily, realising how deep he was in self-hate.

“I want to be loved,” Hanamaki cried out, locking his arms around Matsukawa. “I hate my skin. It’s so ugly and damaged. I don’t want to be hurt, Matsukawa.”

“I know, you don’t deserve it at all. You’re an amazing person, and I don’t want to see you hurt. But you’re not alone in this anymore.” Hanamaki hiccuped, gripping Matsukawa’s shoulders tighter. “I’m going to help you through everything from now on.”

Hanamaki gave a noise of agreement, wiping his eyes on Matsukawa’s shirt. “Hey, can I please stay at your house tonight?” He whispered, kissing Matsukawa’s cheek lovingly. “I want to sleep beside you. You make me feel safer.”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa was more than happy to share a bed with his boyfriend, who trembled in his arms with every breath he took. It was what he deserved, after he had been forced to endure the abuse on his own.


	11. Hypothermia: UshiTen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Shiratorizawa team trip spirals into chaos as two third year's stray from the rest of the students, with snow all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never wrote for Shiratorizawa properly so here ya go nerds  
> Enjoy~!

Treading his way across thick snow, Ushijima was sure that he was lost. So incredibly lost.

During the annual trip to a ski resort, Tendou suggested that they walk in the snow and throw clumps of it at each other, that had naturally resulted in a brutal snowball war with many betrayals and Shirabu wrestling Goshiki to the ground. After Washijou suggested they needed their rest after they were sopping wet and sniffling, the students couldn't be more relieved to return to their lodging house.

Except that Tendou had chosen to take a shortcut to the lodging house, that he claimed always worked wonderfully. "I’ve been here twice already, Wakatoshi-kun! Leave it all to me!" He had said cheerfully. And Ushijima had believed him without question, a decision he regretted deeply. 

As they advanced through thick willow branches, Tendou’s expression became increasingly confused. “Weird. I thought there wasn’t any construction work around here…” he muttered, propping up the collar of his coat. “Geez, it’s cold.”

“It’s winter.”

“I think I've come to realise that, Wakatoshi-kun~!” Tendou said breezily, but his voice was devoid of his usual enthusiasm. He stared down at his bare hands, shoving them into his coat pockets with a "Whew!" 

“Are we lost?”

Tendou turned a deaf ear to Ushijima’s innocent question, marching on into the snow. The snow sank and crunched under the soles of their boots, getting seemingly deeper as they advanced through the evergreen bushes. Leaves brushed against every inch of them, which was a fact that Ushijima decided not to point out. “Oomph,” Tendou groaned as his dishevelled hair was nabbed in a branch, which snapped viciously into his face as soon as it escaped his hair.

“Great,” Tendou shook his wry face jovially, scratching his head to let the snowflakes fall. “Now I’m covered in snow. This is great, Wakatoshi-kun.” Ushijima could tell that he was forcing himself to be bubbly and energetic, but he could see right through it.

“Tendou, are we lost?” Ushijima repeated, in a graver tone this time.

Tendou stuck his bottom lip out, hugging Ushijima’s waist. “Of course not, Wakatoshi-kun! We’re just… A little confused on which direction to go, that’s it!”

“Is that not the same as being lost?” Ushijima pointed out calmly, wrapping his scarf around his neck a little tighter. “We are not in a good situation, from the looks of it.”

“Ah, right. Coach’s gonna rip us a new one,” Tendou rolled his eyes, as if it were a minor inconvenience that he could shrug off. “But we just gotta look for the lodging house! If we get the general direction right, we’re going to be fine!”

Ushijima was unsure, but still chose to place his trust in Tendou. After all, he had to know about the land more than he did. As they trudged on through the packed snow, Ushijima noticed the smile on Tendou’s face gradually fade away. Tendou was only wearing a light coat, whereas Ushijima had a scarf and gloves. Ushijima realised how cold it had to be for Tendou, and wrapped his heavily clothed arms around him.

Fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of the lodging house. “Wakatoshi-kun, I think…” he emitted a reluctant sigh, clinging onto Ushijima for warmth. “We should head back. There’s no point going on if we can’t see where the lodging house is.” Which really was Tendou code for "We're lost, just like you said." 

Ushijima chose to remain level-headed, for both of their sake. “Do you know how to head back?” He asked calmly, touching Tendou’s paling face. “You look unwell. We must take you to somewhere warm immediately.”

Tendou shivered, turning around to follow the two pairs of footprints left in the snow. “It’s okay, Wakatoshi-kun. Nothing I can’t fight off!” He thrust a fist in the air, almost tripping over his own feet as he did so. Powdery snow shot upwards onto his pants, dampening them with splotches of water.

“Take this.” Ushijima removed his hat and placed it on Tendou's head. Bits of red hair stuck out at an awkward angle, but Tendou didn’t complain. “You need it more than I do.”

“Thanks, ‘Toshi.” Tendou murmured, grinning sheepishly. The colour didn’t return to his cheeks still, which worried Ushijima. “Look at me, I get to wear Wakatoshi-kun’s hat!” He slurred, still shivering violently. A drop of snow floated down onto his nose, that had a worryingly similar colour.

It started to snow again, but this time Tendou wasn’t jumping with glee and attempting to catch the flakes in his mouth. “Goddamn white bullshit,” he let out a disgruntled noise, curling in on himself and rubbing his clammy, pallid skin.

“It’s so cold,” Tendou whined, letting Ushijima take the lead after a while. “So… goddamn cold.”

“We must hurry,” Ushijima stated, holding Tendou’s arm as they backtracked a little faster. “The snow will cover up our tracks if we don’t move fast enough.” He tugged on Tendou’s coat, making his way back where they came from. “I will try to remember the way the others went.”

“Whatever, Wakatoshi-kun. Just tell me when I can stop freezing to death over here.” Tendou’s eyes were half-lidded, and his temperament had become as sour as a lemon without any warning. Ushijima wore a pokerfaced look, as Tendou rubbed his eyes with an irritated huff from his nose that turned to mist.

As the lost two shuffled in silence, Ushijima noticed how much difficulty Tendou was having with keeping up. The footprints could still be easily detected, but the amount of snow that wasn’t there previously indicated a potentially dangerous situation. If they didn’t arrive at shelter soon enough, they were risking their safety. 

Ushijima took off his gloves and handed them to Tendou, wincing a the cold air bit into his fingers. An angry wind brushed against his face, but he knew he had to carry on. “Wear these too,” he commanded plainly, touching Tendou’s icy cheek.

“I’m fine, okay? You don’t have to-“ Tendou jerked forward rapidly as a branch caught his boots, forcing him to tumble forward face-first into the snow. He lifted his head out of the snow slowly, lethargic eyes scanning around frantically for Ushijima.

“Tendou!” Ushijima grabbed his boyfriend, hauling him away from the snow before his body temperature could drop any lower. “We need to go back to the others. It shouldn’t take too much time now. Stay with me.”

“Mm,” Tendou’s eyelids started closing, and Ushijima had to fight to keep his composure. He wasn’t thrown off by many situations, but witnessing his boyfriend so delirious and struggling to even open his eyes was frankly terrifying. “I wanna sleep, Wakatoshi…”

“You cannot sleep yet.” Ushijima picked up and carried Tendou in his sturdy arms without changing his expression, ensuring that his body heat would warm up Tendou at least somewhat. “Stay awake, Tendou.” The tremors from Tendou’s floppy body didn’t stop, even after Ushijima attempted to prevent him from getting any colder. Ushijima forced his eyes to remain dry, knowing he couldn’t show himself crying to Tendou. But he needed to, badly.

“Wakatoshi-kun, I’m so sleepy.” Tendou groaned, pressing his face against Ushijima’s pecs. “I think I see Tsutomu… he’s such a cute little bowl cut…” he mumbled, completely out of it.

“Tendou, wake up, please!”

“No, seriously. Is that our Tsutomu?”

Tendou pointed to the faraway figure that approached them, before letting out an exhale and beginning to drift off. **_"Senpai!!”_** came Goshiki’s scream, audible even at a considerable distance. “Senpai! Oh my god, Tendou-san! Are you okay?”

A sigh of relief escaped Ushijima, causing him to almost drop Tendou. He propped him up hastily upon noticing he was sliding down, and made his way to his screeching underclassmen as fast as he could go without hurling himself and Tendou into the snow.

“Get them some blankets! Quick!”

Everything seemed to move in fast forward for Ushijima. Semi and Reon took Tendou inside, beckoning for him to follow. The sudden warmth inside the lodging house caused his cheeks to flush, and soft, pale purple blankets swathed his entire body in no time. He was forced to stay where he was without moving, which made his chest itch restlessly. He needed to know Tendou’s safety.

A head of red hair caught the corner of Ushijima’s eye, and at last he could relax with Tendou close enough for comfort. He was exhausted and about to fall asleep, but still quite very alive. “Tendou,” he uttered the name lovingly, a smile returning to his lips.

As Goshiki and Yamagata helped Ushijima into warm gloves and a fluffy scarf, he realised how cold he had been himself. “Drink this." Reon pressed a mug of soup onto his gloved hands."It's instant corn soup, but it still tastes good.”

Ushijima tilted the mug towards his mouth, letting the soup flow into his mouth. It heated up his core as it slid down his throat, warming his stomach and satisfying his appetite. “Thank you.” Drowsiness overtook him after a few sips, and Reon took his mug away when his head started bobbing towards the ground.

“Come on. We have a futon laid out for you, so go lie down.” Reon took Ushijima’s hand into his, coaxing him out of the comfortable sofa. “Tendou’s going to sleep too. He’s all right, so don’t worry about anything happening to him.”

Ushijima obliged, latching onto Reon like a stray cat that found a new owner. “Someone’s feeling a little sleepy,” Kawanishi added, assisting Reon with placing Ushijima down onto the mattress. The captain was far from light, and even Reon needed a hand with getting him to rest somewhere comfortable.

“He was carrying Tendou-san for who knows how long. He has to be exhausted.” Shirabu pointed out, as Ushijima’s breathing became soft and calm. “He really is an amazing captain.” That was the last thing Ushijima heard before he dropped into a tranquil sleep, knowing that everything he held dear to him was all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments please :) it would make my day! Even one word makes me absolutely delighted!


	12. Electrocuted- Nishinoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Nishinoya's case, his kindness and compassion can lead to his demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******DEATH WARNING******* ****
> 
> I'm sorry

“It’s not safe to go out, Noya!”

Asahi held Nishinoya firmly by the shoulders, refusing to let him out of the house. Neither of them knew more about the dangers of thunder than the other, which was exactly why Asahi was stopping Nishinoya from potentially risking his life.

“It’s fine. Odds are, I’ll be killed by a falling coconut before I get struck!” Nishinoya protested, using an excuse that Asahi absolutely didn’t buy. “Come on. I can’t just let that kid roam around! It’s way more dangerous for him than it is for me.”

Nishinoya was fixated on taking in a child that he had seen earlier, crying and wailing that his parents were missing. Although Asahi’s heart went out for the child, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Nishinoya to the storm.

“It’s _flooding_ , Noya. I can’t let you go out when it’s so dangerous!”

Nishinoya grunted, wasting no effort to let Asahi know how much he opposed his idea. “I’m not letting a kid die out there. You know what’ll happen to someone his size.”

Asahi wanted to point out that it’s Nishinoya he’s concerned for size, but he knows his argument will be shut down. It was what always happened when Nishinoya was passionate for a cause. No matter how much logic Asahi backed himself up with, it would all be disregarded by his compassionate boyfriend.

“Ten minutes, Noya. And I’m coming with you.”

“Make it fifteen.”

The two reached a reluctant agreement, and put on their boots and raincoats with haste. Nishinoya was all to eager to help the child alone in the rain and thunder, and stepped out of the house without hesitation. “Come on, Asahi-san.” He beckoned impatiently, marching away from safety.

Asahi deeply regretted not having a driving license. Going out during the worst storm of the year was one of the worst decisions he had made. “Which way, Noya?” He followed his boyfriend through the lashing rain beating down onto his body, quickening his pace to keep up.

“Around here.” Nishinoya splashed through the puddles, paying no attention to the murky water that splashed onto his jeans. “Hey, kid? We’re here to help you!”

“Maybe someone else helped him already,” Asahi suggested, wanting to pull Nishinoya back to the safety of their own home.

“Or he’s in danger.” Nishinoya shut Asahi up with a glare. “If you’re not going to help me, then feel free to go home.”

They trudged through the puddles for about seven minutes, until Nishinoya saw the familiar figure of a child crying out for help. “I- I can’t find my way home! Where’s momma?” The child started to run in circles around the puddles, sobbing violently all the while.

“Hey, kid,” Nishinoya called out, arms reaching for the boy, “I’m here to get you to somewhere safe. Hold onto me.” The child shook his head, edging away from Nishinoya. “Come on. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“No! Momma said I shouldn’t talk to people I don’t know!” The boy growled at Nishinoya, scuttling backwards with a menacing look on his face. “And the big guy behind you is scary! I can’t trust people who look like that!”

Nishinoya was about to retort, but decided now was not the time to get into an argument with a five-year-old about how nobody should judge a person by their looks. “It’s dangerous here,” Nishinoya replied in a calmer tone, holding a hand out for the boy to grab. “I want to take you to somewhere safe. You can tell us where you’d trust us to get you to.”

The boy looked unsure, and Asahi knew that he was considering the option. “Okay. Can you take me to the shops?” He pleaded, seemingly more comfortable around Nishinoya due to his size. “Don’t let big guy hurt me, please?”

“Asahi-san is the most gentle person I know. He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Nishinoya claimed, which wasn’t far from the truth. Asahi loved children, but never got to interact with them often. Children didn’t seem to love him back. “Can you walk on your own, kiddo?”

“Yeah! I can!” Nishinoya and the young boy started walking side by side, with Asahi close behind so that he wouldn’t scare the child. Nishinoya had a triumphant look on his face, but Asahi wasn’t letting his guard down. He knew better than to think the danger was nonexistent after they accomplished their mission.

But his concern remained seemingly impossible. They had arrived at a street with many detached houses, and a shopping centre caught their eye. “We can stay there until the storm lets up! Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yeah!”

Nishinoya lifted the boy in his arms, causing him to giggle. Asahi breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to slightly relax his shoulders. Nishinoya was handling the child well, and they could stay in a sheltered area for the night. His top priority was getting everyone to safety, which was going better than he imagined.

A flash of electric light was all it took to change him forever.

The lightening bolt illuminated Nishinoya’s face, still smiling warmly at the boy he had rescued. His streak of hair that reminded Asahi of a streak of light shot upwards, and Nishinoya was on the ground before either of them could process the situation.

“Nishinoya?”

Asahi reached out to Nishinoya, then withdrew his hand as he realised how dangerous it could be to touch his unconscious boyfriend. “No, no. Nishinoya?” No response.

“ _Nishinoya_!” He screamed his name, but there was no answer. Asahi’s mind began running through all the worst-case scenarios. There was only one way he could help, which was call the ambulance. Burns were scattered across Nishinoya’s exposed skin, and Asahi couldn’t see his chest rising and falling as if he were sleeping.

“Is- is he gonna die?” The boy hiccuped, as Asahi held him back with his phone in one hand to prevent another person falling unconscious right in front of him. “He can’t die! He helped me! He needs to live! Onii-tan, you gotta help him!”

Asahi doesn’t stop his tears from falling. Every word coming from the boy’s mouth shatters his heart. He squeezes him a little tighter as he shakily tells the dispatcher where they all are, and what exactly happened. He doesn’t know how the dispatcher understood his frantic screaming, but he has no choice but to trust her when she says that the ambulance is on its way.

But Asahi knows the ambulance needs time to come to them, and it’s not enough. Somewhere in his gut, he can tell that Nishinoya is losing signs of life rapidly, and he looks more like a body than the libero he once knew. “Please, don’t take him from me.” Asahi chokes on his sobs, falling to the ground not caring whether he gets struck or not. He almost wishes it would happen, if he could be with Nishinoya.

Except that he was still there, uncomfortably drenched and sopping wet. His kneecaps had wet patches, and uneven splotches of rainwater travelled down the entirely of his clothed legs. “Nishinoya,” Asahi called out his boyfriend, who was already faded away when the ambulance arrived. He wasn’t surprised when the paramedics shook their heads at him, but a part of him died at that moment.

Without his light, there was only darkness in Asahi’s life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	13. "Stay,": BokuAka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On sleepless nights, Akaashi's there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to him

Bokuto’s eyes fluttered open. It wasn’t morning yet, he could tell from the lack of light seeping in through the curtains. Akaashi’s warmth was beside him, snoozing away, his head resting on the comfy pillows. A small part of Bokuto was proud, being able to wake up earlier than Akaashi for the first time ever.

His relief diminished when an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach took over. He grabbed the covers and pushed them off his body, that now felt scorching hot and uncomfortable. Fanning the air, he fell back and let his head hit the pillow. He became increasingly aware of the hot churning in his stomach, which he ignored obstinately.

Although he lay on the sheets that became soaked with his sweat, Bokuto couldn’t get himself back to sleep. His head seemed to be engulfed in a ball of fire, cooking his brains into mush. He screwed his eyes shut with all the strength he could muster, convincing himself the physical discomfort was temporary.

Bokuto’s skin was slick with sweat, but his throat was dried up, in dire need of fluids. Maybe a glass of water would provide him with relief, he thought. “Ah, dammit.” He grabbed a fistful of sheets, gathering up some momentum to lift himself up again. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to peel his body off the bed.

Taking care not to wake up the snoozing Akaashi, Bokuto used his trembling arms to manoeuvre himself off the bed. His feet touching the ground became colder than the rest of his body, while his head remained scorching hot. His joints screamed at him when he put a foot forward to walk. He hadn’t overexerted himself yesterday, so there wasn’t a reason for him to be so tired.

Bokuto’s legs almost gave way on the way to the bathroom, and he placed his hand on the wall to guide himself in. All he wanted was a splash of water on his face, maybe a cool shower to wash off his sweat. Instead, he found himself kneeling in front of the toilet after the nauseous feeling in his stomach took over. He swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth, wiping the sweat off his forehead. The unpleasant sensation crept up his throat, forcing a dry heave out of him.

He had no idea why he was so sick. He’d had food poisoning and dreadful hangover before, and neither of them compared to how horrible his entire body felt right there and then. His body seemed to radiate heat onto everything he touched, and his head hung over the toilet while he waited for the inevitable to come.

After what Bokuto could only guess was hours of waiting on the cold bathroom tiles, his body somehow burned even worse. He needed to vomit, if he wanted any sort of relief from the painful churning around his midsection. He forced himself to take deep breaths, each exhale bringing his stomach contents a little further up his throat.

When the inevitable finally happened, relief overtook Bokuto first. His stomach clenched hard, forcing warm vomit out of his mouth. He didn’t want to look at the mess that he had caused, and doing so made him throw up another stream of sick into the water. He spat out the disgusting mouthful and gagged until nothing came up except watery acid.

Bokuto couldn’t remember the last time he had been this unwell. His head spun as he reached to flush the toilet, curling in on himself to avoid the stimuli that made his head throb. The dizziness took over, gluing him to the one spot that he was slumped over at. His breath hot as he exhaled unevenly, he lay his head on the floor not caring about how unhygienic it was. He needed something cold he could press his skin against.

“Kou,” a voice whispered beside him, shaking him awake after he had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. Bokuto let out a moan of discomfort, having been waken up from a rest that he desperately needed. “Oh god, you’re burning up.” Akaashi pulled his body towards him, holding him so that his palms rested on his chest.

“What’s happenin’, Keiji?” Bokuto leaned into Akaashi’s arms instinctively, seeking the comfort that his boyfriend gave him. The lack of nausea didn’t do much for him. His throat was scratched and sore, and his head pounded intensely. “I wanna go back to sleep.”

Gentle hands picked up Bokuto, carrying him back to his room. Akaashi was surprisingly strong enough to carry him, despite Bokuto being the obviously beefy one of the two. “I know, Koutarou.” Akaashi whispered, stroking Bokuto’s hair. “Why were you collapsed in the bathroom?”

“Felt… sick,” Bokuto murmured, rubbing his forehead against Akaashi’s shoulder. “I threw up earlier.” He let out a huff of comfort when Akaashi set him down on the bed, stripping off his drenched t-shirt and shorts and helping him into some fresh clothes.

“Try to get some more sleep, alright?” Akaashi made a sympathetic noise, placing his cool palm on Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto let out a whine, reaching up to hold his boyfriend’s hand against his face. “Is there anything you want me to get? Does an ice pack sound nice?”

Bokuto’s glossy eyes lit up. “Yeah,” he choked out. The idea of something cool against his head or the side of his neck sounded like heaven. “And maybe some water…” he added, his throat scorching hot and aching.

“I’ve got you,” Akaashi assured him, squeezing his arm tenderly before leaving the room to grab the supplies he needed to gather. Bokuto pressed the fabric of the pillow against the side of his head, gripping the covers. He breathed heavily, realising just how bad whatever he had come down with was.

Without delay, Akaashi came back in with a soft clatter to indicate that he had brought multiple things for Bokuto with him. “Tell me if it’s too cold.” He placed two small ice packs on either side of Bokuto’s neck, and he let out an exhale of contentment. “Here’s a basin if you feel nauseous again.” Akaashi spread some towels out on the bed and sat the basin on it, handing Bokuto a glass of water with ice chips inside.

“I love you, Keiji.” Bokuto sipped his drink, delirious from the fever. The cold water felt amazing going down his abused throat, and he sucked on the ice chips until his entire mouth was numb from the cold. “You’re an amazing boyfriend, y’know that?” He slurred, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

With a loving sigh, Akaashi caressed Bokuto’s floppy hair. “Get better soon, Kou. I love you very much too.” He sat on the bed beside Bokuto, whispering to him until his breathing evened out and his eyelids closed.

The peaceful sleep Bokuto fell into didn’t last nearly as long as he needed it to. His eyes filled with tears as he woke up, looking around for anything that gave off light. The room was too dark. Something bad was going to happen, he was sure of it.

“Keiji,” Bokuto called out, tears dripping down from his chin. Fear grasped his heart, twisting it in a cruel manner, torturing his mind. Everything was too warm, and the heat trapped him where he was. “Keiji, please come here!” He stuttered, sobbing harder until he couldn’t breathe properly.

Nobody was there to help him. He was going to melt into the darkness, taken and forgotten. His cries reached a louder volume, until all he could hear was his own panicked bawling. Tear streaks covered his cheeks, which were still flushed from the fever that burned him alive.

“Shh, Kou. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Akaashi, who had picked up on his sobbing, was by his side in a second, rubbing his back in a steady rhythm to calm him down. “It’s just a dream, see? You’re here with me, Koutarou. You’re safe here.”

Bokuto wailed, grabbing hold of Akaashi’s arm for dear life. “Keiji, it’s scary.” He trembled, his breathing coming in hitched, shallow gasps. “I’m gonna be sick again.”

That was all the warning Akaashi got before Bokuto hiccuped thickly and brought up a splash of clear vomit into the basin. Akaashi had only positioned the container under Bokuto’s chin just in time. “You’re going to be okay. I’m real, Kou. Listen to me.” Akaashi held Bokuto’s midsection as he puked the remainder of his stomach contents out, the tears never stopping.

Bokuto’s throat burned, and the amount of heaving he had done in one night hurt his entire upper stomach region. “It hurts,” he whimpered, in a way that could only be seen as pitiful. The fever dream had caused his sickness to flare up even worse, and he was sitting up holding a basin filled with his own vomit.

“It’s all right. It’s over, Kou. You can rest now.” Akaashi took the basin away from Bokuto, before the sight and smell could make him sick again. “I’ll get something to help you feel better. Do you think you can wait here for a few minutes?”

Bokuto shook his head, tugging on Akaashi’s sleeve. “Stay.” He wrapped his warm arms around his boyfriend, latching onto his body until he couldn’t move. “Help me go to sleep again, Keiji. I don’t wanna have another nightmare.”

“I will.” Akaashi resigned himself to his fate, whispering comforting words beside Bokuto to lull him into a gentle sleep again. “You won’t have any more nightmares, I promise.” 


	14. Torture: KyouHaba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the two gang members are abducted by an enemy gang, things are about to turn ugly really fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obvious torture and blood warning.

“Kyoutani,”

Yahaba’s voice reached the blonde, hoarse and scratchy. Kyoutani jerked forward against his restraints helplessly, emitting a low, animalistic growl. His various injuries throbbed to the beat of his heart. Grey walls surrounded him, along with men in dark clothes to put him in his place if he dared step out of line.

“Don’t talk, whatever they do to me.”

Yahaba’s face immediately became contorted with pain. They had kicked him in the side, just around his liver. He doubled over, gasping and coughing. Kyoutani couldn’t force himself to tear his eyes off his boyfriend. He was doomed to watch helplessly, as Yahaba was assaulted.

“I wonder if listening to little lover boy is a good idea.” The leader of the enemy gang threw honeyed words in Kyoutani’s direction, who only responded with a venomous snarl. “If you could just tell us the location of your hitmen, we can both let you go.”

 _Don’t_ , Yahaba mouthed. Kyoutani bowed his head in acknowledgment. Seijoh and Tsuna had so many vendettas and grudges against each other that Kyoutani knew not to trust any of their offers. If he spilled the information, he and Yahaba would still be beaten up, or worse.

“Who asked for your input, _pretty boy_?”

Yahaba was kicked again, in the gut this time. Kyoutani grinded his teeth together, biting his lip to prevent an array of curses escaping. A mess of emotions bubbled inside of him. Raw anger, despair, hopelessness. But he wasn’t going to cry. He channeled the rage into determination, eyes set into a a glare.

A heel dug into Yahaba’s hand, causing the gang member to let out a shocked yelp. The glance Yahaba cast to Kyoutani was enough to shatter him, but he kept his face unchanging. If there was one thing he didn’t want his enemies to have, it was satisfaction. He wouldn’t scream or cry, even if he were to die. He was going to leave them with as much dissatisfaction as he could.

“What’s with that look on your face?”

Kyoutani’s resolve attracted unwanted attention to himself, and a glass bottle was smashed over his head after the bottom was busted off. “Fucking _hell_ -!” Glass rained down onto Kyoutani’s head, and the parts of his scalp that were cut started to bleed profusely.

Yahaba let out a gasp, turning away from Kyoutani’s bloodied face. He was always the more sensitive of the two, and always treated Kyoutani’s injuries after a rumble. Kyoutani couldn’t understand why Yahaba was worrying for him, when it was Yahaba who would get the worst out of the situation.

“I guess this guy here won’t be as pretty when we’re done with him.”

Kyoutani realised what the gang members brought out and waved in his face immediately. It was a whip, split into many parts at the end to inflict the maximum amount of damage onto human skin. He could tell Yahaba was terrified, although he didn’t show it. He was a human, as well as a gang member.

With a merciless crack, the whip was brought down onto Yahaba’s exposed back. A strangled cry escaped his mouth, filled with agony. The whip tore through the air before loudly bouncing off Yahaba’s skin, over and over again until he couldn’t even scream.

Kyoutani wanted to peel his eyes away, but his eyes remained glued to Yahaba’s flesh. Strips of purple, red and blue scratched against his back, skin broken and bruised. Yahaba was crying now, hot tears of pain dripping onto the bloodstained floor.

The lashings only stopped for a brief moment before it promptly started again, cutting deeper into Yahaba this time. Tears choked Yahaba as he let out brutal screams, with nobody to take away his suffering. Kyoutani’s eyes glazed over, but he knew there was nothing he could do to help. He was just being led to believe that it wasn’t so.

When the whip was finally dropped, a punch was aimed where there was hardly any skin left. Kyoutani had to tear his eyes away at that. Blood spilled down Yahaba’s back as he screamed, but all he could manage was to writhe helplessly on the ground, unable to lift himself into any other position.

Kyoutani’s gut twisted with revulsion. He wanted to throw up at the horrifying display of violence against his boyfriend. Even if he was used to fights and getting hurt himself, it was another matter entirely to see somebody he loved getting hurt.

If only they had flayed him and punched his wounds instead.

Drool and tears flowed down Yahaba’s face as he mouthed something to Kyoutani, who couldn’t make out a word of what Yahaba was trying to communicate. His mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land, but no words came out, only pained gasps.

It wasn’t long before Yahaba’s eyes fluttered shut. It was a relief knowing that Yahaba wasn’t in pain anymore, but the worry of his eyes never opening again replaces what little relief he had inside him. Unconscious, limp Yahaba was something Kyoutani never wanted to see.

“Guess he’s not of use anymore.” Yahaba’s body was tossed to the side, after a kick aimed at his worst wounds failed to elicit a response from him. “If you’re not going to talk, we might hurt you too. You’ve seen what happened to poor handsome-kun over here.”

Kyoutani let out a guttural sound of defiance, refusing to open his mouth. If they thought they could torture him to get anything out of him, he was willing to laugh and spit in their pathetic faces. He would die proud, never begging for mercy with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Kyoutani’s blood was running cold in his veins, but he froze his expression to give off the impression that he was prepared for whatever torture they chose to inflict onto him. His arms and legs were pinned down, and his clothes were pulled up so his bare back was exposed to the air.

From where his head had been slammed onto the ground, Kyoutani could see the shards of glass from earlier laying beside him. The others did too, apparently. One of the gang members picked up a piece of the shattered bottle, wasting no time before dragging the sharp end down Kyoutani’s back.

The skin split easily, and Kyoutani held back a wince. The open wound created took time to start bleeding out, and by the time he felt warm droplets running down, there was another shard being dragged across his skin, cutting deep into his flesh until he was _sure_ it couldn’t heal without stitches.

“Fucking _freak_. He’s probably an animal. He doesn’t even speak.”

A kick aimed at his sliced back only strengthened Kyoutani’s will to stay absolutely silent. He waited for Seijoh to come and find him, hoping that he would still have his body parts intact when they came to save him and Yahaba. His back throbbed, multiple angry cuts littering his skin as if someone had painted them on a canvas.

Without warning, his abdomen was penetrated by something cold and stiff. The cool, strange sensation instantly turned to boiling hot pain when he realised what had happened. He had been stabbed, and the blade had entered deep enough for it to be a serious wound. He knew that being left alone for too long would result in death.

“That hurts, doesn’t it?” A voice came beside him, mocking and taunting. “I can stop it if you just tell me the information.” It cooed, and Kyoutani bit his lip to prevent himself from telling him to fuck off. As the blade was extracted from his stomach, he saw black and white spots dancing in the corner of his vision.

The scenery was buzzing, colours merging together and sounds fading away as a part of the background. He grinned, knowing it could be the last time he would go to sleep. The last memories weren’t pleasant, but the memories he had with his group were real. Maybe fate would be kind enough to spare Yahaba.

When his eyes fluttered open again, the first thing he noticed were the lights. Bright and shiny details flooded his brain, and his eyes screwed shut, unable to adapt to the sudden change. A hand was on his head, and although he couldn’t lift his arm to move it out of the way, he didn’t mind.

“Kyouken-chan, you came round?”

Oikawa’s smooth voice reached Kyoutani’s ears. It was filled with worry for the gang member, who could hardly move from the bandages and the injuries covered by them. “Yahaba,” Kyoutani croaked, his voice rough and scratchy. “Is Yahaba okay? Is he… alive?”

“Mmhm,” Oikawa stroked Kyoutani’s hair, as he would have done with a child or a baby. Although Kyoutani would have argued that he was, in fact, neither, the comfort was pleasant and he welcomed it. “He’s hurt, but he’ll pull through. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be fine. Just… hurts like a bitch,” Kyoutani groaned, letting out a pained moan as his stab wound throbbed. Tears dripped from his eyes, which really didn’t make sense. He was crying when he wasn’t in danger, even though he remained stoic in the face of possible death. Emotions were something he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“There there, Kyouken-chan.”

Oikawa smoothed down his dyed hair, wiping away the tears that kept coming. It only prompted him to cry more, but Oikawa didn’t seem to mind. “Everything’s okay, kid. You’re going to be okay soon.” The older male’s voice was soothing, enough to lull him into a peaceful state. At long last, Kyoutani was back where he belonged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos,,, please


	15. Manhandling: Kunimi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kunimi has a plan that results in some violence and self-sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would not exist without @RussianSunflower3 check them out pls

“Kindaichi, you have to talk to me.”

Kunimi’s foot tapped restlessly on the cold tiles of the hospital bed. A week and three days after the assault Kindaichi was forced to go through, he still refused to say a word to anybody. Not even his parents could prompt him to talk, which was saying something. Kindaichi was incredibly close to his parents.

The boy shook his head, pulling his knees closer to his chest. “Please, Kindaichi. I just want to hear something from you.” Kunimi sighed softly, dropping his gaze on Kindaichi’s bandaged hand. The bones hadn’t broken cleanly, and the process of healing was much slower than it should have been. He wouldn’t be playing volleyball for a few months, at least.

Kindaichi pulled up his phone, typing sloppily with one hand.

_I’m sorry._

“Hey,” Kunimi extended a hand towards Kindaichi, taking his time to let Kindaichi settle down and get comfortable with his gesture. “You didn’t do anything bad, Kindaichi. Don’t apologise.” Kunimi reached towards Kindaichi’s shoulder, placing his arm around him with gentle care. “The only thing I want is for you to get better.”

Kindaichi flinched, clumsily typing again.

_But I’m not getting better, Kunimi. I’m sorry I’m a failure._

Kunimi stroked Kindaichi’s hair, unwaxed and bangs obscuring his view. “You’re trying your best, Kindaichi. That’s enough. You’re enough.” He couldn’t believe somebody had it in them to ruin his best friend to pieces, shredding his mental state until he lost the ability to smile and chat like he used to.

Kindaichi kept mouthing apologies, gripping Kunimi tightly. A sob escaped his mouth, the only sound that Kunimi heard from him ever since the incident. Kunimi held Kindaichi’s body so that his back pressed against himself, absorbing the tremors that wracked Kindaichi. Tears dripped onto the phone screen, smudging the letters spelling out Kindaichi’s broken state.

Kunimi was going to extract revenge, no matter what way he had to carry it out in.

With the way Iwaizumi talked about Kindaichi’s assailant, Kunimi could tell that he had hurt Oikawa for an extended period of time. “I want to hurt him, Iwaizumi-san.” Kunimi didn’t bother hiding his rage. His eyes glinted with sharp hate, tearing through Iwaizumi’s skin.

“Kunimi, we can’t risk club suspension. They-“

Kunimi held out a hand to stop Iwaizumi, not caring that he was being disrespectful as an underclassman. Iwaizumi of all people had to know how horrible it was to see someone he loved crumble to dust, destroyed for the entertainment of some sick bastards.

“Then we can get them so they’ll never have proof that it’s us.”

Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated huff escaping his cracked lips. “They’re all over the school, Kunimi. Even if we succeed this time, they’re going to come back to ruin our entire club. I’m not letting that happen.”

Kunimi remained unconvinced. If Iwaizumi wasn’t going to help him, he was going to take matters into his own hands. He had his sly ways, which became all the more easy to execute when he had gleaned information from all sources he could stretch his fingertips to.

“I don’t want anyone else to suffer, Kunimi. Believe me, seeing Oikawa and Kindaichi hurt like that breaks me too. I’m not having you or anyone else hurt.”

Kunimi nodded reluctantly, hoping to look like he had given up on his carefully constructed plans. The best Iwaizumi could do was impede his revenge, if anything. “I understand, senpai.” He really didn’t, except for the fact that it was going to be a one-man operation.

“What’re you doing here, tiny?”

Kunimi only grinned in response as the third year eyed him up and down. “I’m here to ask you about my friend.” He stated calmly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he kept his cool. “His name is Kindaichi Yuutarou.”

The third year’s expression changed for a split second, enough for Kunimi to confirm his suspicions. It was the right person, the bastard that ruined Kindaichi and covered Oikawa with bruises. Resentment wiped out the fear building up inside Kunimi. He needed to get it done before the adrenaline wore off.

“What about him? I haven’t got all day. Make it quick.”

Kunimi held his ground as the student towered over him. “He’s been in the hospital for days. I think you know why, _senpai_.” His words were laced with venom, doing more than merely perturbing the older male. “Would you care to explain to me why you thought it was a good idea?”

“Serves that annoying bastard right. I just taught him how to shut his little mouth if he valued his volleyball. He got something he deserved coming to him.”

The rage grew into something that Kunimi could no longer control. “You beat him up for no reason.” He raised his voice, letting the fury take over his actions. “You ruined his body and soul, all for your sick, twisted enjoyment.”

“You seem to think that I care about this little friend of yours.” The third year cooed sickeningly, cackling at Kunimi’s disgust. “What are you going to do about it? Are you sad that I used your friend for having a little fun?”

“You _bastard_ -!” Kunimi growled, barely able to contain himself. The vindictive side of him screamed to throw a punch, but he knew he needed to stay composed. “You’re disgusting. Using my friend as a punching bag? That’s the lowest of low.” He continued, spite fuelling his words that ran out of his mouth.

“Would you like to be next, you little shit?”

Kunimi grinned, spitting on the ground defiantly. “Fuck you.” He drew out his syllables, letting out an animalistic snarl. “You’ve stopped as low as you can you can get. Violence is the only way you can assert your dominance, right senpai?”

No sooner than Kunimi had finished his provocation, his collar was grabbed and he was lifted a few inches off the ground. “Shut your fucking mouth, cunt. Why don’t you use it to suck your boyfriend’s dick like a good little boy?”

Before Kunimi could push him further, he was hurled across the empty stairwell, his body slamming hard against the wall. “That hurts, senpai.” His voice icy cold, Kunimi stared at the student straight in the eyes.

“Shut up!”

As the third year pushed Kunimi off the stairs, Kunimi let out a pained cry. “You really are horrible, pushing people down the stairs.” He winced as a hard kick landed perfectly onto his abdomen. “I guess we can’t have a civilised conversation.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The student dragged Kunimi up by his hair, until he thought he was going to be scalped next. A kick to the shoulder pushed him further across the floor, and he let out a scream. “That’s what you get for not watching your mouth.”

“Stop,” Kunimi groaned, clutching his aching shoulder. “It hurts.” His cries were met with more kicks and pushes, each one creating a new wound and bruise that would cover his body later. “I’m sorry, please, no more-!”

“ _Kunimi_!!”

His beating came to an abrupt end when Iwaizumi spotted him laying on the floor, bleeding and sore. “Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing to my kouhai?” Kunimi couldn’t help the fondness that rose in his chest. Iwaizumi was concerned after all, and ready to fight a third year taller than him.

In retrospect, height didn’t exactly matter. Iwaizumi had fought him off quickly before picking up Kunimi in his arms and checking for the worst injuries. “We’re getting you to the infirmary. Fucking hell Kunimi, how did you end up like this right after the conversation we had?”

Kunimi gave a soft moan, wincing as Iwaizumi’s hand touched his painful spot. “I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” He mumbled, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. “Just take me somewhere to lie down, please.”

“Kindaichi is going to fucking break if he finds out about this.” Iwaizumi muttered, and Kunimi squinted with a ‘tch’. He would have a tough time explaining how he got into a fight with Kindaichi’s assailant. “How bad is the pain right now? Anything broken?”

Kunimi shook his head, letting Iwaizumi carry him until they arrived at the infirmary. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pressing the stop recording button. “Nothing’s broken. I just got manhandled, it’s fine. We can finally get rid of him now.”

Iwaizumi stared at Kunimi with a mixture of rage and horror. “You let this happen just for… that?”

“It’s evidence, Iwaizumi-san. Trust me, I’m fine. It was worth-“

“No, it wasn’t.” Iwaizumi cut him off, pinching his cheek tightly. “Nothing is worth having you hurt. If Kindaichi did this for your sake, you would rip him a new one. You didn’t have to get hurt for this.”

Kunimi gave Iwaizumi a visibly dissatisfied look. “It got the job done.” He shrugged as he was lowered onto the bed. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you-“ Iwaizumi glared at him to let him know he wasn’t apologising for the right reason, “-and I’m sorry I put myself in danger.”

“I just wish you could have come to me before doing something so reckless.” Iwaizumi’s time was gentle, as if he was handling Oikawa when he was down and uncertain of himself. “I didn’t want it to be this way. We’re making sure this never happens again.”

“Are we using the recording, or not?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos pls


	16. Bedridden: SemiShira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so short omfg

Shirabu’s weight sank into the mattress, notifying Semi of his presence. “It’s me, Shirabu.” He glanced over at Semi, who had his entire face bandaged and an IV inserted just below his wrist. “How are things today?”

“Dark,” Semi murmured, his hand waving into the air and dropping to his side. “I just want to have these stupid bandages off my face. Can’t see a damn thing.” He groaned, muttering curses about the hospital and how they never let him do anything he wanted.

“You’ve only been conscious for two days, and you have so much to complain about already.”

Shirabu let out an exasperated sigh, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to cry. He knew Semi wasn’t aware of just how injured he was, and how close he was to dying just a week ago. Shirabu and the others had been told that Semi could possibly spend the rest of his life in a coma.

“Whatever, salty ass.” Semi grumbled, and his bandaged body twitched. “Thanks for visiting me, Kenjirou.”

Semi’s voice suddenly turned soft, genuine. Even with the bandages that covered his face, Shirabu could tell that Semi was smiling. “Of course I’m visiting you. I love you, Eita.” Shirabu planted a gentle kiss on Semi’s fingertip, where there were no bandages standing between them.

“I wanna go back to volleyball,” Semi spilled his true wishes, something that would never come true. “I miss touching the ball already. I just want to get a serve in, maybe a couple of receives.”

When Shirabu remained silent, Semi let out a broken giggle. “I can feel the look on your face.” He huffed, his bandages by his eyes growing wet. “I’m not an idiot, Kenjirou. I know it can’t happen anytime soon. I have a lot of waiting to do, don’t I?”

Shirabu opened his mouth, his heart heavy with regret. “Eita, I need to tell you something.” He stroked Semi’s dyed locks, preparing himself for what was about to take place. He preferred if Semi never had to know the horrible truth, but he couldn’t live sheltered from it forever.

“Mm?” Semi tensed, and Shirabu couldn’t stop the tears from overflowing. His boyfriend was unaware, so blissfully unaware of what was coming to destroy him.

“Your legs,” Shirabu blurted out, his voice cracking audibly. His heart shattered as he saw the look on Semi’s face change. “Your legs had to be amputated. There was no saving them.”

Semi gasped, then stopped breathing for a worrying amount of time. “My legs… are gone?” He whispered, and Shirabu’s glance dropped on the two bandaged stumps that used to be legs. “You’re lying, right? I’m gonna get better! I’m gonna play again! I have to, Kenjirou! You know how much this all means to me!”

“I’m so sorry, Eita.” Shirabu hugged Semi without hesitation, letting him scream and bawl into him as realisation took place. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It- it’s not your fault,” Semi sobbed, tears dripping onto his bandages from his covered eyes. “I just want my legs back, Kenjirou. I want to walk again! I’m not done yet!”   
Semi bawled loudly into Shirabu’s chest, the bandage slipping off his eye to reveal the puffy redness that came from crying. “I know,” Shirabu rubbed Semi’s back, wrapping his arms around him as tight as he was allowed to. “It’s so horrible, but you won’t be alone. I won’t ever leave you.”

“I hate it all.”

Semi’s bandaged right eye started to bleed, staining the fabric that covered it. “Eita, you’re hurt.” Shirabu’s remark caused Semi to lash out violently. His hands pushed Shirabu off him indignantly, and Shirabu instantly knew he had said something that didn’t help.

“I know that, okay?! I fucking know!” Semi angrily dug his nails into his arms, not bothering to wipe off the tears that continued to spill. “You don’t even know what it’s like. So don’t act like you know how I’m feeling right now.” His words came out in a jumbled, frustrated mess.

“Why?” Semi asked, his voice softer and filled with despair. “Why is this happening to me? What did I ever do to have all of my life taken away from me?”

“You don’t deserve any of this, Eita. I’m so sorry.” Shirabu broke into sobs, holding Semi’s hand tightly. “I love you so much. So, so much.” 

* * *

 

Despite being told that he could be on prosthetics in a few weeks, Semi remained bedridden for over a month. Shirabu knew it was far from easy to recover from something so incredibly traumatic, but he couldn’t help wondering if it was seriously impacting Semi’s ability to move on from hospital life.

“Eita, can I talk to you?”

Shirabu let Semi take his hand, after a couple of failed attempts of him grabbing it. The accident had robbed Semi of his sight in one eye, and he was still adjusting to the new life that he was thrown into forcibly.

“I want you to get better. But right now, you don’t seem comfortable with having prosthetics.” Shirabu cut right to the chase, knowing that beating around the bush would only irritate Semi. “What’s on your mind? I’m not going to judge you, Eita. You can tell me.”

“You- you won’t judge me? Promise?” Semi held out his pinky finger, gesturing at Shirabu to make him swear by his finger.

“I promise. I don’t want you to suffer on your own.”

Semi swallowed hard, turning away from Shirabu slightly. “I’m scared of moving on from here, Kenjirou,” he admitted, sighing emptily. “I can’t see out of one eye, and I won’t be able to walk properly for a long time. And I just don’t know if I can make it without burdening you and everyone else.”

“You’re not a burden,” Shirabu interjected quickly, but Semi only shook his head ruefully. “Don’t be saying that, Eita. You’re not a burden, so don’t ever think that.”

“I don’t want you to waste your life caring for someone who can’t give anything back, Kenjirou. You deserve someone better. Someone who won’t take away your time and effort.”

Semi let out a defeated laugh, hiccuping as he let his tears flow freely down his face. “I should have just died back then.”

“Shut up!”

Shirabu couldn’t stop himself from smacking Semi’s head, hard. “Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking say that again!” He screamed out every syllable, shaking Semi’s shoulders with all the force he could gather. “Do you have any idea how many times I was told you might not make it?”

Semi remained silent, his eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t go on without you, Eita. I need you in my life. Please, just… live!”

Semi nodded, muttering an “I’m sorry,” and taking Shirabu into his arms. “Thank you so much, for sticking with me.”

“That’s what I’m here for, you big idiot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos pls? :)


	17. Drugged: BokuKonoAka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto's depression causes him to make some choices at a party that he regrets very, very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late a little but I hope this is okay aaaaaaaa  
> (TRIGGER WARNING FOR DRUGS AND OVERDOSE)

Bokuto’s world was monochrome. The colours had faded away into muddy browns and greys, dripping off himself and his surroundings. Sounds were just background clutter that hurt his ears and made his headaches worse. Nothing popped out full of bubbly colour, captivating him like when he was a child.

“Bokuto, get up. We’re going to a party!”

Konoha shook Bokuto awake, excitement overflowing from his expression. Bokuto blinked, using Konoha to slowly manoeuvre himself off the bed. Truth be told, Bokuto didn’t like college parties. The noises were too much, and the lights were blinding. But Konoha did, and even Akaashi had agreed to go. That said a lot, considering that Akaashi was even more of a stay-at-home person. Bokuto couldn’t be a disappointment to them all over again.

“Alright, alright. Jus’ lemme get changed out of these.” Bokuto yanked the top of his hoodie off his head, tossing it on the couch that he was snoozing on. He groaned with satisfaction as he cracked his joints, stretching his body out after his nap. He didn’t feel any better after sleeping. His chest was still weighed down with heavy dread, reminding him that depression wasn’t going to go away just because he did something to care for himself once in a while.

Konoha ruffled Bokuto’s hair, attempting to get it to stick up like it did with a liberal amount of hair gel. “You wanna go, right? If you don’t, it’s okay. There are a few snacks in the fridge.” Konoha kissed Bokuto’s forehead, smoothing out the tension in his boyfriend’s shoulders. Only Konoha and Akaashi knew that Bokuto wasn’t the same energetic goofball from high school, but it was enough for Bokuto. He didn’t like talking about his deteriorating mental health.

“No, I’ll go.” Bokuto stated, changing into some decently fashionable clothes that Konoha picked out for him. He knew Konoha loved dressing his two boyfriends up, admiring their beauty and peeling off their perfect clothes in the comfort of their bedroom. Bokuto couldn’t crush Konoha’s excitement. He loved him too much. “Now come on. Let’s drag Akaashi into our bullshit.” He drew back his hand and gave Konoha’s ass a hard smack, giggling maniacally.

Konoha let out a squawk akin to a surprised bird after a human came too close. “Bokuto, you bastard! I hope you choke on dick, asshole!” He wheeled around and kicked Bokuto’s leg, but the childish grin on Bokuto’s face remained prominent.

“I hope it’s yours,” Bokuto clapped back, without missing a beat.

Konoha’s smile was instantly wiped off his face, and a deepening blush took over. “Oh god, Bokuto. Why are you like this?” Bokuto laughed, knowing Konoha loved seeing him perform every sexy act known to mankind.

“You know you looove me, Konoha _AH_!”

It was Bokuto who screamed this time, after Akaashi stuck his icy hands up his shirt. “You are so very cruel, Bokuto-san. Leaving me to rot while you have all the fun with Konoha-san,” The youngest chuckled devilishly, tickling Bokuto’s neck.

Bokuto squirmed, curving himself backwards sharply and trapping Akaashi’s hand in his neck. “Waaah, Akaashi! St _AH_ p-!”

“Alright, lovebirds.” Konoha clapped his hands, dragging the screeching Bokuto over to the front door. “Let’s go. Unless we’re going to arrive fashionably late.”

“You say that as if you’re not the third canary hopelessly trapped in this love circle.” Akaashi followed, pushing Bokuto out of the door from behind.

Konoha scratched his cheek shyly, averting his gaze. “Right. I was just so used to pining on my own in high school.” He let out a ‘heh’, groaning as Bokuto pinched his cheeks.

“We love you, Konoha! Our dear sweetie, shnookums, splendiddlious-“

“I get it, Bokuto.” Konoha chopped Bokuto’s head with a soft sigh on his lips. Bokuto remained oblivious, planting sloppy kisses all over Konoha’s neck and shoulders. “God, you sap. We’re outside,” he warned, but Bokuto paid no attention. He continued to kiss Konoha lazily, burying his face in his skin.

“Speaking of sweetie.” Bokuto lifted his face from the soft, pleasant surface. “I want us to start using first names. I’m Koutarou, or Kou! Konoha’s Akinori, and Akaashi’s gonna be Keiji from now on!”

Akaashi and Konoha looked at Bokuto, and then at each other before bouncing into laughter. “It’ll take me a while to drop the honorifics. You guys were my senpais in high school.” Akaashi pointed out, not mentioning Konoha or Bokuto’s name.

“But we gotta start somewhere! So, we’re staring now!” Bokuto concluded, taking no objections. “Keiji, Akinori! Keiji, Akinori!” He chanted over and over like a mantra, waving his hips as an attempt of a seductive dance. Konoha snorted, while Akaashi rolled his eyes. Bokuto kept his mouth running, distracting himself from the prospect of going to a party he wasn’t entirely sure about attending.

After a few drinks, Bokuto had hoped that he could somewhat have fun or at least integrate into the crowd as something other than the background. But all he wanted to do was to go home and spoon with his boyfriends. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting around anxiously, checking to see if anyone was staring at him weird.

Obnoxious was Bokuto’s middle name during high school. He saw himself being the life of college parties, striking up a conversation with everyone he knew. But his state right now was exactly what Kenma would do if Kuroo took him to any sort of social gathering. Trying to melt into the background, not interacting with people he didn’t know for a year or more. Bokuto let the alcohol force a grin on his face. He was having fun, he had to when Konoha and Akaashi glanced at him.

The sky was grey inside Bokuto’s heart. No rain, only dark patches of cloud blocking out the sunshine that he desperately needed. He didn’t want to die, he was sure of that. The alternative to it was just not as appealing as he wanted it to be. So he was stuck, floating in the greyness that consumed him whole for days at a time.

“Hey. You. Wanna come over for some drugs?”

Bokuto slowly lifted his head to come face-to-face with a shorter male, holding out a hand to him. “What- what do you mean? Why?” He spluttered, his mind not catching up to what he was being offered. “What do they do?”

“You look fucking exhausted. It’ll help you relax.” The man clapped him on his back, in an almost sympathetic way. “It won’t hurt you if you don’t make too much of it. Are you in or are you not?”

Bokuto nodded, without thinking. His mind was too loud, and he needed something to quieten it down. Nothing could hurt him if he didn’t use too much of it.

So he let it happen, taking the pills that were handed to him. “Call me if you need more. From the look on your face, you’ll probably come back.” Bokuto could barely manage a nod. He hadn’t counted the number of tablets that he had forced into his system. The noise around him was amplified, and he silently slumped against a wall to wait for the pills to take effect.

Bokuto didn’t realise what was happening, at first. Everything was calming down, and he was swimming in the midst of a slow motion film. He needed to get back to Konoha or Akaashi. He didn’t like being drowsy and swaying on his own. He staggered his way through the house, half-lidded eyes scanning the room for either of the familiar faces.

“Bokuto! Whoa, whoa, whoa. How much did you have to drink?”

Before Bokuto could comprehend what was happening, Konoha was right in his face, peering in cautiously. He opened his mouth to respond, but his brain wasn’t cooperating with his vocal chords. “I didn’t ha- have anythin’,” he slurred, not noticing Akaashi right behind him until he caught him swaying sideways.

“You’re about to topple over, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pointed out casually, letting Bokuto rest his head on his shoulder. With a defeated huff, Bokuto realised that he was going to be taken home. He didn’t particularly want to stay, so he was glad to finally have a breath of fresh air when he stepped outside.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get this dork home.” Konoha leaned in for a kiss, then drew back in mild surprise. “He only smells like he had a couple of drinks, though. Weird,” he muttered, and Bokuto couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. He needed to know where he was, and how he had gotten there with so little recollection.

A twinge of pain seized Bokuto’s stomach as he was half-carried by Akaashi. A groan escaped his lips, and his hand wrapped around his middle to calm down the cramping that started up without warning. “Bokuto? You okay?” Konoha whispered, but Bokuto couldn’t say anything. He gave a weary nod, leaning into him for support. His arm was twitching as well, but he couldn’t let Konoha see that.

The realisation crept up on him. He had taken drugs that were probably illegal. Would he get arrested for it? What would become of Akaashi and Konoha? Their dream apartment?

Bokuto closed his eyes with all the force that he had. He was staggering even with Akaashi and Konoha’s help, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep off the aftereffects of the drugs. His body agreed with him, a little too much. He almost slipped into a state of sleep, but Konoha slapped his head to keep him awake and alert.

“Bokuto-san, are you okay?” Akaashi shook him firmly, after he almost fell face first into the ground for the fifth time. “Can you tell me what date it is today?” He asked, tapping Bokuto’s shoulder repeatedly to elicit a response out of him. The only sound that escaped him was a low groan, which caused Akaashi to shake him harder. “Bokuto-san, answer me. You don’t look okay.”

“I don’t know,” Bokuto wailed, shaking his head as he curled in on himself. “I don’t know, okay? Just please, let me rest. My head hurts, and my stomach-“ he cut himself off with a retch, doubling over on the ground. A sudden wave of intense nausea he’d never experienced before hit him full on, leaving him no choice but to empty his stomach on the pavement below.

“Oh, shit. He’s really out of it, Akaashi. What do we do?” Konoha rubbed Bokuto’s back from bottom up, encouraging him to get everything out of his system and over with. “You’re okay, Bokuto. Just let it happen. You’ll know not to drink so much next time, right?” His tone was kind and soothing, but Bokuto continued to sob as he was violently sick again.

The spasms in Bokuto’s stomach worsened, leaving him panting on the ground and clutching his stomach desperately. “I want to go home,” he scrambled for Konoha’s arm, once he found out he couldn’t stand up on his own. “Where are we right now? What am I even doing here in the first place?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured fearfully, pressing a hand to Bokuto’s forehead. “This is five minutes away from college campus. Are you sure you’re all right? How much did you have to drink, exactly?”

Bokuto shook his head, his shoulder muscles twitching. “Only a couple of glasses, ‘kaashi.” A surge of dizziness swept him off his feet, knocking him down to the ground again. He could only imagine the look of disappointment on Akaashi’s face when he admitted that he had taken drugs, from someone he didn’t even know. He had brought it on himself, and they would probably leave him to die if they knew what he had done to his own body. He deserved to rot. He was always a burden who couldn’t keep his mental health under check anyway. Akaashi and Konoha could work perfectly as a couple without him.

“A couple? You’re acting like you’ve downed entire bottles in the space of a few hours.” Akaashi’s voice had a hint of concern in it, but Bokuto could tell that he was incredibly cross. He didn’t even blame him. “Tell me the truth, Bokuto-san. You’re being irresponsible with your body. You need to know your limits, or else this is going to happen all over again. I don’t want to see you like this.”

Bokuto opened his mouth to apologise, but what he wanted to say wasn’t being assembled to words inside his brain. Everything was foggy, trapped inside his throat and refusing to come out as spoken sounds. Instead, a low gurgle sounded at the back of his throat, and he vomited onto the ground again. Some splattered onto his fingers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His abused stomach felt like it had a knife stuck into it and twisted many times. His throat was scraped raw, and his breath was getting more and more choked up.

“Oh, god. You poor thing.” Konoha cringed in sympathy, patting Bokuto comfortingly. “Just focus on taking some deep breaths. You can get some rest soon, so hang in there for just a few more minutes, okay?”

Bokuto was shaking violently, but he finally managed to open his mouth and say something. “No,” he shook his head, breathing in slow gasps. “I think I need an ambulance,” he rasped out, fighting to keep himself awake.

“You’re not that intoxicated, Bokuto!” Konoha sighed in mild exasperation, but Akaashi pulled out his phone with a more unsure look on his face. “What makes you think you need one?” He still queried, touching Bokuto’s skin that was rapidly losing its colour and warmth. “You’re really cold. Do you know what’s going on?”

Bokuto’s eyes brimmed with tears. “It- it wasn’t the alcohol,” he sobbed. He was getting taken into the confusion inside his head a little more each second, and it was a struggle to form a sentence when he felt like passing out right there and then. “I took some pills that I wasn’t supposed to!” He blurted out, not caring that he was saying something so incredibly disappointing. He was going to die if he didn’t say anything, which was something that could have happened if he was a few minutes too late.

“You _what_?” Akaashi looked like he was about to slap him, but instead handed his phone to Konoha and crouched down beside Bokuto. “What did you take? And how much?” Bokuto noticed that Akaashi was more desperate than angry, holding his arm tightly to keep him awake. “Konoha-san, call an ambulance! Now!”

Konoha scrambled to type the numbers for an emergency call, muttering terrified curses into himself. “I don’t know, more than… five, I think.” Bokuto mumbled, his hand twitching as he tried to reach inside his pocket. There had to be that slip of paper with the dealer’s number. “My pocket,” he mumbled, and Akaashi wasted no time before turning them both inside out and grabbing for Bokuto’s phone and the slip of paper.

“What did you give to my boyfriend?” Akaashi’s voice was cold, filled with concerned anger. “He’s the one with the spiky hair.” A beat and a pause later, he started yelling in a tone that Bokuto never heard him use before. “Well fucking hell, tell him that! Do you think he’s ever done this before? Why did you put him in a fucking situation like this?!”

Konoha stared at Akaashi, terrified out of his wits, but carried on making the phone call. “What’s the name of what he had?” Konoha asked, and Akaashi seemed to have calmed down as he gave him a name. “He started throwing up a few minutes ago, and he’s really disoriented. His- breathing? Akaashi, is Bokuto breathing?”

“Very slowly,” Akaashi leaned his ear into Bokuto’s mouth worriedly, drawing back after Bokuto started coughing and throwing up what looked like water at that point. “Fuck. Don’t choke, please. Don’t!” His collected exterior was completely shattered as he was tipped over the edge. He couldn’t watch one of his boyfriends on the verge of a coma while the other frantically called the ambulance. “I- I don’t know what to do, I don’t know!” He screamed, covering his face while spilling frustrated tears.

“Akaashi, the ambulance is here. Bokuto’s gonna be okay,” Konoha hugged his boyfriend tearfully, stroking his hair while he waited for the vehicle to come closer. They were taken inside the ambulance for further questioning while Bokuto remained unresponsive, even when the treatments turned invasive. “He’s strong. He’s gonna pull through.”

As a paramedic approached them, Akaashi and Konoha froze up, fearing for the worst. Bokuto looked so fragile carried into the ambulance. The strongest person they knew was limp and unresponsive in the face of possible death. They knew Bokuto didn’t want to overdose and fall unconscious. He just wanted a break from his mind that yelled at him, belittled him for not being a good enough student, a good enough boyfriend.

“He will be all right. His body is very weak right now, but he is reacting well to the treatment. An overnight stay at the hospital will improve his condition significantly.”

Akaashi and Konoha silently embraced, tears staining each other’s shirts. “He’s gonna survive, Ak- _Keiji_.” Konoha called Akaashi by his name, just as Bokuto wanted him to. He couldn’t let Bokuto die without granting his wish. When he woke up, they would call him Koutarou as many times as Bokuto wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos fuel my writing fire.


	18. Hostage: Nekoma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another gang AU!

The teenager with grime covering his face and clothes emitted a low growl, his dark eyes glaring into the entire Nekoma gang. There was no telling if he could speak or not. Any efforts made with communication were swiftly shut down, when the teenager lashed out violently.

“Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

Kuroo’s question was met with an animalistic scream, as the boy struggled against his restraints.

“Why did you try to kill Kai?”

This time, it was Yaku who asked. There was no answer, only a “Let me **_go_**!” The boy couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, but he was _quick_. He’d stopped screaming when he realised there was no way out, but remained extremely apprehensive and refused to answer anything he was asked by the eldest members.

“We don’t want to hurt you. It’s not pleasant, you know? Torturing a kid. But we are a gang, and we don’t care much for pleasantries. Spit it out.” Kuroo extended a hand towards the teen, drawing back when the boy attempted to bite his finger.

“ ** _I hate you._** ”

Kuroo threw his hands up in mock defeat, shrugging jovially. “How saddening. You should be glad your murder attempt failed miserably. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now,” he stated darkly, without a hint of enthusiasm in his eyes.

“What’ll I do with him?”

Kenma looked straight into the hostage’s animosity-filled eyes, then turned away. “Send him over if he’s dead. Living hostages are loud and annoying.” With an indifferent expression, Kenma turned away. He dealt with covering their tracks and disposing the corpses, making sure they were never caught with their actual murder count.

“I’m not scared of you!” The boy was visibly shaking, but held his ground and refused to admit anything. “My group will kill you! You’re all going to be done for!”

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re part of a group, huh?” He inched closer to the snarling hostage. “What’s the name of your group?”

Before the boy could answer, Kuroo pressed a buzzer to shock him. “Katanari,” he choked out, his eyes widening as he realised what information he had given out. “You fucking _bastard_!” He yelled every curse he could think of, and attempted to bite off his own tongue in retaliation until Kuroo yanked his hair sharply.

“I’m going to tell you this for your own sake, kid.” Kuroo gave the teenager’s hair a light pat, his touch becoming gentler than ever. The boy let out a confused whine, eyes darting over to catch a glimpse of his captor’s face. “If you get out of here alive and stay with them, you’ll most likely be murdered.”

All of Nekoma knew about Katanari, a group that focused on gathering young troubled teens and grooming them into becoming their personal killing machines, the ones that they would pin the blame on if anything went wrong. Seijoh and Fukurodani had some members that they had managed to save from Katanari before, all of them requiring an enormous amount of help to get them back into a less animalistic state.

The boy opened his mouth, but no words came out of him as he shivered in disbelief. Kuroo could tell that he was swaying. He wasn’t a hopeless case. There was still saving him, as long as they handled him with care and let him heal slowly.

“They’re using you. Because you aren’t in a comfortable living situation, they offered you a home and a job. Isn’t that right?” Kuroo questioned him mercilessly, forcing the boy to meet his gaze. He could tell that he was shaking his head just to deny the suspicions rising inside himself.

Kuroo sensed that the boy needed only a few more pushes before becoming tame to them. “You know what? You’re a kid. Even if you’ve killed people, I don’t think I have it in me to torture you. If you want to, I’ll let you go right now.” He offered, and Yaku gave him a dirty look. He was too good at mind games, and had no limit when it came to being a manipulative master.

“You’re just saying that to scare me into submission,” the boy’s voice quivered, uncertain. “You’re going to kill me as soon as I try to escape!”

“Shibayama Yuuki, sixteen years old. Used to work part-time at a coffee shop until publicly outed and was recruited to join the gang when he was on the streets after getting kicked out.” Fukunaga read from his computer screen, having already composed a fact file of the captured teen.

Shibayama’s eyes widened in fearful surprise. “How- _how_?” His expression was a mixture of dread and awe, and it dawned on him that Nekoma wasn’t a group that he wanted to mess with. Which he did without knowing, and was paying for it very much. “Why are you telling me all this? Is this how you guys torture people?!”

“Interesting idea, but no. Kuroo isn’t doing this to torture you.” Yaku crossed his arms, tipping Shibayama’s chin up. He didn’t attempt to attack this time, only flinched instead. Yaku shot a glare towards Kuroo to tell him that he had scared him too much. “How about you join our gang instead, Shibayama?”

“Me? Join your gang? What do you want me for?” Shibayama remained unmoving even as Kuroo released him from his restraints, surveying the entire area cautiously. “They won’t let me get away with this. If I do that, I’ll be murdered. Do you think I have a death wish?” He argued weakly.

Kuroo gave Shibayama a flat look. “It’s completely your choice. If you want to go back to those manipulative assholes and be their scapegoat, suit yourself. Or you could join us and kick every last one of their asses.” He clapped his hands once, urging Shibayama to decided what he wanted right that second.

“I- I’ll do it,” Shibayama nodded, staring down at the ground as if he had just made a regrettable decision. “I’ll be part of your gang. Just… please. Don’t let them kill me. They won’t ever forgive me if they find out about this.”

“You’ll be sharing a room with Inuoka,” Kuroo announced, a flash of sympathy appearing in his eyes. “No funny business, you got that? He can and will end you if you try to get him in his sleep.”

Shibayama bowed his head, his expression unreadable. “I won’t try anything,” he promised, remaining backed up against the wall. Kuroo knew that he was vulnerable, and he could kill him right now if he were truly evil.

“Yaku and Yamamoto, take him to the baths.” Kuroo commanded, whirling around and shoving his shock switch back into his pocket. “You know what to do if anything happens.”

Without a word, Yaku and Yamamoto approached Shibayama and held him by his arm. “Come on, follow us. I trust that we can leave you on your own in the bath.” Shibayama realised the many implications of him stepping into a bathroom on his own. He could break the mirror and use the shards however he pleased, or throw soapy water into their eyes. It wasn’t something he could do in his current situation, but the thought crossed his mind.

“There’s a towel and clothes outside. Come out if you’re done.” Yaku and Yamamoto kept their sentences simple, and Shibayama didn’t talk except for a mumbled “I understand.” He was left alone when he stepped into the room just behind the bathroom, for him to remove his clothes. It was a massive relief being left alone, nobody to stare at his bruises and scars.

Shibayama cast his torn t-shirt and discoloured shorts aside in a neat pile, removing everything until he was completely naked. His bruises that came from mostly his own group seemed to have worsened after the manhandling, and bits of dried blood were caked on his skin.

He stepped into the bathroom, taking the shower head and pouring warm water over his injured body. The hot steam caressed his grimy face, clouding the mirror beside the shampoo bottles. He hadn’t been able to take a bath in days. His skin stung as jets of water hit his wounds, even more so when he added a dollop of body wash onto it, but he couldn’t waste the opportunity to become finally clean again.

When Shibayama scrubbed at his skin with a soft sponge, the dirt and blood whirled down the drain with brown water, and the grime under his nails gradually disappeared. He massaged a large amount of shampoo into his scalp, absentmindedly playing with his bubble-filled hair. A pleased sigh escaped his lips as he washed off the suds on his skin. As he stared into his reflection on the mirror blurred with perspiration, a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

The clothes set out for him fit well, and they were the best he’d had in a long time. He stood without saying a word outside the bathroom, staring at his arms. The colour had returned to his skin, turning it into a healthy shade instead of ghostly pale. He let out a breath, looking around for somebody else.

“Hey, Yuuki-kun, right?” A boy about the same age as him popped inside the room, his brown hair swaying as he wheeled around to peer into his face. “Welcome to our gang, I guess? Trusting that you’re not going to turn against us.” His smile was kind, but Shibayama could tell that his eyes were murderous.

“I won’t,” Shibayama mumbled, as the boy sprawled himself out on the bed.

“Good! My name’s Inuoka, nice to meet you!” Inuoka held out a hand to the ceiling, and Shibayama took it carefully. He didn’t show signs of hostility this time, and shook his hand enthusiastically. “You’re safe now, okay? Nekoma is pretty strong, and you won’t ever be hurt by them again.”

Inuoka pointed to Shibayama’s wrists when the boy gave him a look of confusion. They were red from the constant restraints, and cut up from when he had been handled roughly. “It’s because I carried out a mission poorly. It was to be expected.” He formatted a robotic response, hiding his hands behind his back.

“You still didn’t deserve it. You’re not a machine.”

“I’m a gang member.”

Inuoka held Shibayama’s shoulders, leaning into his face. “So am I. But neither of us should be hurt by our comrades. They’re meant to help you, not pin the blame on you when something goes wrong.” He threw a blanket over Shibayama’s head, placing an extra pillow on the bed. “Let’s get to sleep for tonight.”

Shibayama nodded, hesitantly slipping under the covers. He didn’t know whether to trust Inuoka, but his smile was more genuine than anyone from his previous gang. He shut his eyes, shivering in anticipation of unexpected beatings and water hurled over his head. He jolted when something touched him, but it was the gentle Inuoka’s hand, patting his back rhythmically.

For the first time in years, Shibayama wasn’t an animal, but a person. He couldn’t speak, but his eyes fluttered and tears dripped onto the pale covers. He hadn’t expected to feel like he belonged in a gang, but maybe this time, his soul was in the right place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments pls


	19. Exhaustion: Kuroo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late   
> Why the fuck am I so sleepy

Kuroo rocked back and forth in his chair, his strained eyes threatening to flutter shut any minute. The lights in the class were too noisy, compounding his headache that he had been sporting for a good few days. His body screamed at him that he needed to sleep, and he needed to _now_. Whether he could was a totally different question, however.

His head was being split open from the pain, that dug deep into his skull. The headache was turning into a migraine, right in the middle of his chemistry class. The persistent ache that made him want to cut his head right off made tears well up in his eyes. He could imagine himself screaming at everyone and everything to _shut up_ and stop making all the commotion. He needed a break. Why did he never get one?

 _Last class_ , Kuroo thought to himself. _Last class, and then practice_. His heart sank a little, and then some more after he realised he wasn’t meant to be dreading volleyball. Still, he was so exhausted, and the more he thought about it, the more his body seemed to hurt in different places. The coffee that he had downed earlier that morning only seemed to dissolve his stomach, acid burning his oesophagus. He felt sick and miserable.

He made it through his class through willpower alone, stopping by at a vending machine afterwards to buy a can of coffee. He knew he was probably tearing a hole in his stomach lining from the excess coffee, but he needed the temporary energy high to keep him going. With heavy footsteps, Kuroo made his way to the gymnasium.

“Kuro, are you sick?” Kenma asked him upon arrival, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t look good. If you’re not, that’s fine, but don’t push yourself.” Before Kuroo could object, Kenma turned away to practice his sets with the first years. It wasn’t surprising that Kenma always knew when he wasn’t well, but there wasn’t anything he could do to help.

“I’m fine,” Kuroo mumbled, powering through his worsening headache. “Come on. Time to practice. Lev, I told you not to stretch those arms straight up!” He started to bark out orders as per usual, although there was no strength in his voice that he usually had. He couldn’t bring himself to practice with the amount of energy he used up every day.

When he thought about his part-time job, Kuroo found it taxing to invest all his stamina into volleyball practice. He wasn’t earning money for being the captain of a team, or working his ass off every day until he was almost collapsing. The time he spent with his team made him happy, but it wasn’t what his grandmother needed. She needed surgery, and Kuroo needed all the money he could get.

“Kuroo, sit out. You’re obviously not feeling well.” Yaku put his hands on his hips, glaring at Kuroo accusingly. He tapped Kuroo’s shoulder, and was met with a started jump. “Are you listening? God, when was the last time you slept?”

Kuroo swivelled around indignantly, his sunken eyes piercing cold. “It’s nothing, okay? Do you want me here or do you not?” He yelled, losing his composure completely. The first years looked at each other and then at Kuroo warily, not daring to get caught up in the argument.

“I want _you_ to get some proper rest. Just go home for today, Kuroo.” Yaku held his ground, reaching out to touch Kuroo’s shoulder. “And how many cans of coffee have you gone through within the last few days, anyway?” He pressed further, only worsening Kuroo’s attitude. 

“It’s _none of your concern!_ ” Kuroo spat out, his eyes glistening with tears. “Just leave me alone, please,” he said ruefully, trudging out of the gymnasium while covering his eyes with the back of his hand. He knew everyone else stared at him with pity, and he hated it. Nobody could help him out of his situation this time.

As he headed down the path away from school, a thought occurred to Kuroo. Was it perhaps a good idea to quit volleyball and stick to working part-time, after all? Was it a waste of time to even think about making the battle of the trash heap happen? He couldn’t disappoint his teammates that way. They looked up to him, depended on him to better themselves. If he didn’t believe in him, then where would they get to?

But at the same time, Kuroo needed the part-time job desperately. Their family only had his father to provide for the four of them altogether, and with his grandmother needing money for her treatment, they were financially unstable without another source of income. His grandmother was the only mother figure that he had to look up to. He needed her in his life.

“Kuroo, are you okay covering _another_ late-night shift?” Another worker asked him as he changed into his uniform. Kuroo couldn’t help but feel mild annoyance. He was fine. And if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like his coworker would pay for the medical bills his family was facing.

“Mm,” Kuroo answered with a grunt, shelving the newly bought stocks of food mechanically. “I’ll be fine. I can catch up on sleep later.” He rubbed his temple, noticing another headache coming on. His brain was foggy all day, and it wasn’t helping that he was feeling sick from the coffee. He ignored his pains and carried on shelving a little faster, pressing his head into his knees occasionally.

It was midnight by the time he was home, the rest of the house sleeping except for his working father. There were two assignments due, which would impact his grade if he didn’t complete them in time. He needed to get it all done, keep his life on track. He turned on all the lights in his room, forcing his burning eyes open.

At two in the morning, Kuroo passed out with his head on the desk. He didn’t feel much better after waking up, seeing as he had gotten only a few hours of the sleep he desperately needed. He exited the house after wolfing down a glass of orange juice and toast, fighting to keep it down as he ran to school.

When Kuroo walked into the club room for morning practice, Kenma immediately grabbed his sleeve. “What do you want?” Kuroo’s expression froze when he realised just how angry Kenma was. His friend’s stare bore a hole into his chest, and an exasperated sigh escaped his lips.

“Go home. Or the infirmary. Choose one, now.”

“Kenma…” Kuroo trailed off. Kenma was deadly serious, and he was on the verge of exploding at him. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.” He mumbled, and both of them knew that was a lie.

“You’re not _fine_!” Kenma raised his voice, causing Kuroo to flinch. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re not okay, and this is the worst state I’ve ever seen you in,” He ranted, holding Kuroo’s head in between his palms. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Kuroo collapsed into Kenma’s shoulders, letting out a strangled sob. “It hurts, Kenma.” He cried out, knowing that Kenma couldn’t do anything to ease the pain. But he needed a place to cry, to let out his emotions that he had been bottling up for way too long. “I just wan’ sleep. I don’t want to be a failure! I can’t- I can’t let grandma die!”

“Oh, fuck.” Yaku slapped his palm straight onto his face as soon as he walked into the club room. “Should we take him to the infirmary?” He asked without missing a beat, wrapping a careful arm around Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo let out a whine, hesitantly letting go of Kenma to hold onto both of them.

“Yeah, we should.” Kenma ran a hand through Kuroo’s messy hair, helping him up into a standing position. “This was bound to happen eventually. Come on, Kuro. Just hold on a little more, and you can lie down,” he coaxed him gently, and the trio made their way into the main building, to the infirmary.

Kuroo let out a relaxed sigh as he was let down on the bed. “What’s all this about your grandma, Kuro? What happened to her?” Kenma’s question sent Kuroo into a crying fit again. “Is she… sick?” Kuroo managed a nod, hugging Kenma tightly. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, even for a moment. She was suffering as they spoke, and Kuroo needed to do something, anything.

“So you’ve been working yourself half to death?” Yaku huffed, running his fingers across Kuroo’s cheek. “Doesn’t your entire body hurt? Rest for today. You’re pretty much making yourself sick at this rate.”

“My head hurts,” Kuroo shoved his face into a pillow, shutting out the light that attacked his temple. “I need the money to pay for the treatment. I can’t just sit there and see her in pain!”

Kenma shushed him, placing the blanket over his shivering body. “I know,” he soothed Kuroo, taking off his jacket and draping it around Kuroo’s shoulders. “But you won’t do anything by hurting your body. Get some sleep, and then we’ll talk about this.”

Kuroo shook his head tearfully, tears still cascading down his pale cheeks. “I can’t,” he murmured, hiccuping as he cried into the fabric of the pillow. “I’m so tired of this. Why couldn’t- why couldn’t I just have been the one to be sick?”

“Stop it, Kuro. You’re doing your best. Go to sleep,” Kenma reassured him, rubbing his back at a relaxed rhythm to calm him down. “Nothing is going to happen. Just close your eyes, okay?”

“I- I can’t, Kenma.” Kuroo whimpered, half delirious from the sleep deprivation. He fought the urge to pass out for a good few minutes, but eventually succumbed to his exhaustion and began to sleep soundly.

Kenma silently pet Kuroo’s hair, staying by his side to make sure he didn’t wake too soon. “We need to help out his family. He can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” Yaku agreed, noticing how lifeless Kuroo looked as he slept. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

“He’s Kuro.” Kenma stated, as if to reassure himself. “He’s going to regain control of his life eventually. He just needs some help when he gets into a situation like this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos or comments? They make my heart feel good


	20. Concussion: Kageyama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting nailed in the head with a volleyball causes more pain than anyone intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the poor quality! I'm so tired and late smsksk help me

“Kageyama, duck!”

Tanaka’s scream didn’t make Kageyama act the way he needed to. As he lifted his head with a “Huh?”, a failed spike from Hinata nailed him on the head, hard. A cacophony of screams followed soon after, and Kageyama let out a groan of pain. Hinata was so going to have it when he was done with him.

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Check if he’s conscious. That was a pretty hard blow.”

Kageyama lifted himself up to his knees with a wince, looking around to notice an array of faces peering into him with varying levels of concern. Asahi and Hinata were about to have nervous breakdowns on the spot, while Tsukishima merely raised his eyebrows in a mixture of interest and maybe, just maybe a hint of worry.

“Dumbass…” Kageyama muttered, holding his head between his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the lights that shone too brightly into his face. The whole gymnasium started to spin, forcing him to remain sitting miserably where he was.

“Kageyama! Don’t die!” Hinata’s scream rang too loudly in his ears, travelling up to his head. The pounding intensified, and he leaned into the touch of whoever had placed their arms around him. He was slowly lifted by the sturdy arms, carried out of the gymnasium to be brought to where he could receive adequate medical care.

“How much does it hurt, Kageyama?” Kageyama realised that the one who was carrying him was Daichi, and his mind flashed back to the Johzenji match in a sense of morbid irony. “Do you feel sick or dizzy?” The captain asked, walking to the infirmary while holding Kageyama in a seemingly effortless sense.

Kageyama made a sound of discomfort, not entirely sure how to answer. “My head just hurts,” he pressed his head against Daichi’s chest, seeking that extra comfort he needed after he had just been injured. He couldn’t feel any blood trickling down his scalp, but the inside of his head felt all shaken up.

“Do you think laying down would help?” Daichi suggested, lifting him up higher to ensure that he was comfortable. “It’ll get better soon, Kageyama. We’ll get some ice for that as soon as we reach the infirmary, does that sound nice?”

“Mmhm,” Kageyama murmured in agreement, his eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t keep himself awake until he was on a bed, and ended up losing consciousness in Daichi’s arms. His head lolled backwards, making him look limp and fragile but his tinted cheeks proved that he was still alive.

When Kageyama woke up, the ceiling was different from the infirmary’s, a paler shade of cream. He couldn’t remember why he had been brought to a different location while he was asleep, and why he had a hospital gown on. When he dropped his gaze and scanned his surroundings, he realised that he was in a hospital, for reasons he couldn’t see far enough to find out.

A sense of mild uneasiness swept over him. He never got sick, so it couldn’t be something like that. Unless it was something serious, which he doubted. Even if it was, he didn’t feel any severe pains in anywhere else besides his head. The last thing he remembered was volleyball practice. He assumed that it was a faulty spike or something else that hit him on the head, and hard. The throbbing wasn’t anything like what he had experienced before. The only relief he had was that his hands weren’t injured, so his life as a setter was far from over.

“Kageyama?”

Sugawara entered the hospital room before Kageyama could wriggle out of bed to investigate what was going on. “Sugawara-san, what’s- what’s going on?” He mumbled, his headache preventing him from speaking clearly. “Why does my head hurt so much?”

“You got injured during practice,” Sugawara explained, pressing a button to alert a nurse. “How are you feeling right now?”

Kageyama screwed his eyes up, failing to lift his head off the pillow after a dizzy spell hit him. He could have lied and told him he felt great, but somehow that didn’t feel like a good idea when he was in a hospital situation. “I- I feel dizzy. And sick.” He admitted, breathing heavily into the sheets. The banging inside his head kept increasing, and he let out a pained whine as the ache continued relentlessly.

“Poor thing,” Sugawara’s hand was on his forehead, massaging his head gently. The touch was comfortable, and the scent of the third year had an oddly calming effect on Kageyama. “Do you think you can go to sleep?” Kageyama shook his head. He wished he could go to sleep, maybe then he could finally escape from the pain.

The nurse entered Kageyama’s room, leaning over Kageyama to check on him. “Is your head still painful?” She asked, gently helping him lift his head and propping him up with a pillow. Kageyama nodded, pressing his palm over his eyes. “Do you remember why you were brought here?”

“No,” Kageyama answered, although he could take a guess. “What hurt me? It just hurts a lot at the back…” he stopped himself from touching the site of injury, knowing from the feeling on it that it was bandaged, and it was best to leave it alone.

“You were spiked in the head,” Sugawara said, and a lot of his aches made sense now. “Do you have any memory of what happened, or is it a blank?”

“A- a blank.” Kageyama’s response was slower than it should have been. It was frustrating, not being able to vocalise what he wanted to say. He knew what he had in mind, but the words wouldn’t form inside his throbbing head. “The room’s spinning so much…” he winced at the lights right above him that made his headache worse.

“Is there anything he can take for the pain?” Sugawara asked, and Kageyama didn’t catch the rest of the conversation when he forced himself to shut all the noise out. The ceiling spun, and he pulled the covers further above his head. He didn’t want to hear or see anything. The only thing he wanted was medicine, or anything that would provide relief.

Hiding under the blankets was the best solution Kageyama could come up with, while he waited for the pain to pass. “They’re going to get some painkillers.” The third year’s whispering hurt his head, but he was ecstatic to know that he could finally do something about the pain. Tolerating the growing ache was getting increasingly unbearable.   
Before the nurse could get back to him with the painkillers, Kageyama’s headache had reached its peak. “Suga-san,” he whispered, reluctantly pulling the covers off his head. “Might- might throw up,” he said weakly. An unpleasant, cold sweat ran down his spine, causing him to shudder. He didn’t know whether the nausea came from the headache or the concussion itself, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was how much of a mess he was going to make.

“Crap,” he heard Sugawara mutter and scramble for a trash can. Kageyama pleaded silently that he would get something quick, before he would inconvenience his senpai even further. The pounding in his head seemed to worsen the nauseous feeling, and he started to dry heave as Sugawara placed something in front of him.

Tears pricked Kageyama’s eyes as his surroundings spun again at a dizzying speed. It only worsened his current state, and he let out a sob that ended with a quiet hiccup. “I’ll call someone right now,” Sugawara reached for the button, laying his other hand on Kageyama’s back as the first year almost choked on his own tears. His breathing hitched and his heartbeat was increasing rapidly at the thought of not being able to play volleyball.

He did end up vomiting soon after. It was a small relief that Sugawara was there to make it less unpleasant, rubbing his back and giving him water to rinse his mouth out. He hated the idea of being seen throwing up by anyone, but his suffering overweighed all of that. He needed the human warmth to soothe him when he was sick and in horrible pain.

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama didn’t know who or what he was apologising for. He hadn’t done something so bad that he deserved a concussion from hell, except maybe the Kitaichi incident. He would be lying if he insisted that he hadn’t done anything wrong, since he had treated his teammates poorly, especially the teammates he thought of as best friends. Would they say that he deserved all of this?

“I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry!” He was violently crying now, tears overflowing and dripping down. It felt like he was crying about so much more than the pain, but he wouldn’t be crying if his damn head didn’t hurt so much. He couldn’t stop throwing up bitter liquid, burning through everything and stinging his tongue. “It hurts.”

Sugawara stroked Kageyama’s hair, helping him through his various stages of panic. “You’re getting help soon. Try not to work yourself up, okay?” Kageyama couldn’t help the fear and apprehension that came with the intense discomfort, but leaning into the caring hand made the ordeal slightly less awful to deal with.


	21. Harsh Climate: Konoha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short!  
> I'm having explosive cravings for unhealthy food send help

“Konoha, your breathing is very heavy.”

Washio pointed out matter-of-factly, laying a hand on Konoha’s shoulder. “I’ve been running around like everyone else. What do you expect?” Konoha retorted, waving off Washio’s statement. The sun was out, with no clouds to obstruct its light. “But the heat is insane. I think I’m going to be like steamed lobster by the end of this.”

Konoha was back on his feet before Washio could say anything else. Fukurodani was a powerhouse, but he felt that it was mostly because of Bokuto. The brooding voice in his heart told him that if he transferred somewhere else, he would still be the same mediocre jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none Konoha. He needed to practice more if he wanted victory in the Spring High tournaments. He wasn’t going to let a heat wave affect his practice.

He could feel the sweat cascading down his neck, dropping onto the gymnasium floor that squeaked as he ran. He needed to breathe, catch his breath before he would collapse. Although he wanted to sit out, nobody else seemed to be bothered as much as him. Dashing through the heat and discomfort, Konoha shook the aches and pains off.

“Alright, end warmups! Go split up!”

The coach started to bark out orders, and the team scattered into different directions to practice their weak areas. Bokuto pestered Akaashi for tosses as usual, and the second year obliged willingly. “Konoha, can you do some receive practices with me?” Komi called out from Konoha’s left, startling him.

“Sure.” Konoha moved to a court with Komi, body still shaking and panting with exhaustion. Nobody, not even the first years, were so exhausted that they needed to stand still and take a break. And Konoha couldn’t help but to think about what that made him. He wasn’t weak, he needed to tell himself that. He deserved to stand on the court in official matches.

He was more than a forgotten player.

As Sarukui joined them, Konoha landed spike after spike for Komi to chase after. It was Komi who had it the hardest, slamming his body into the court over and over again. But Konoha’s inhales became sharper as his joints throbbed and heart thrummed in his throat. He knew Sarukui and Komi were starting to cast worried glances at him, and he hated it. He was fine, f-i-n-e.

“You okay, Konoha?”

Sarukui broke the ice, asking the question everyone wanted to ask Konoha. Konoha opened his mouth, staggering without warning and swaying to one side. “I’m okay,” he choked out, forcing himself to keep his balance. He was only dizzy from overexertion, nothing to do with his weakness.

“You sure about that?” Komi said, and Konoha nodded hesitantly. His mind was being taken somewhere else, slowing his responses. Komi didn’t look convinced, but took the volleyball in his hands and threw it over the net. “You’re really red. Sit out if you’re not feeling good, okay?”

Konoha’s resolve only became strengthened at Komi’s concern. “It’s fine. I’m just tired,” he muttered, covering his face with the front of his uniform. His head started to pound as the ground twisted and morphed under him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing his sight to return back to normal.

When he opened his eyes, what met him was the ground. “Konoha!” Sarukui immediately picked him up, and Konoha wanted to push him off, tell him that nothing was wrong. But he couldn’t. His heart was beating too much inside his chest, and he couldn’t lift himself off his friend.

“Sarukui?” Konoha murmured, leaning into the comfortable soft surface that was his friend. He was sporting an unpleasant headache, and darkness seemed very welcoming to him. He pressed his face into Sarukui’s chest, his dry skin touching Sarukui’s back. The words he wanted to voice out were caught in his throat, unable to get out.

“Someone, get the coach!” Sarukui yelled, and Komi was quick to scamper off for help. “Konoha, shit. You’re burning up.” Konoha was limp in Sarukui’s arms, unable to lift his head or stand up on his own. It made a lot more sense why he was feeling so horrible. His stomach was cramping up, and he let out a groan of pain, holding Sarukui tighter.

A crowd of volleyball players gathered around Konoha. Sarukui and Bokuto carried Konoha into the shade, flapping his clothes to cool him off. Konoha couldn’t keep his eyes open, or comprehend what was happening. He lay down for a while, heat gathering in his cheeks. His face flushed with fever, he struggled to clear his mind of the jumbled thoughts and worries.

“Konoha, can you hear me? How are you feeling?” Bokuto’s voice was loud enough to be carried straight into Konoha’s brain, causing him to moan in discomfort. His breath came in shallow, painful gasps, increasing the dizziness each second. He was radiating heat like a stove, becoming dangerously close to dehydration.

A bottle was pressed to his lips before he could answer. “If you can’t drink on your own, we’re taking you to the hospital.” Konoha attempted to hold the bottle with both hands and tip the water he desperately needed into his mouth, but his shaking hands caused him to splash the water all over himself. The cool wetness felt good against his skin, but his thirst remained constant and his throat was parched.

“That’s it. Someone, call an ambulance!” Konoha felt like he was underwater, his hearing and sight distorted by the fever and tears. Heatstroke was running him over mercilessly, leaving him to suffer on the ground. Tears started spilling from his eyes, flowing freely down his face. His stomach and head hurt even worse as he sobbed, his eyes closing over as the severe drowsiness took over.

When Konoha cracked his eyes open again, he felt a lot less warm and sick. “Washio?” He muttered his friend’s name, his voice laced with fatigue. His hand was gripped tighter by Washio, and Konoha realised how worried he was. “What happened while I was asleep?”

“They gave you intravenous fluids to keep you hydrated,” Washio explained briefly, stroking Konoha’s soft hair. “Why did you push yourself so much?” His voice was filled with so much pain and regret, that Konoha immediately felt guilty for worrying him. He had probably worried the entire team as well, since he could vaguely remember Bokuto looking like he was about to cry.

Konoha bit his lip to stop himself from crying. “I didn’t want to be weak,” he admitted, and Washio’s eyes widened. “I don’t have the power Bokuto has, and I’m not as clever as Akaashi,” he continued on, wiping his cheeks. “I need to work harder than everyone. I-I’m sorry.”

“But even Bokuto and Akaashi need to take care of themselves, like you and everyone else.” Washio brushed against Konoha’s face with his thumbs, tender hands easing the tension out of him. “Don’t worry about anyone but yourself, Konoha. You could have seriously hurt yourself if we hadn’t brought you to a hospital soon enough.”

“I know,” Konoha was miserable, mentally exhausted after beating himself up for his incompetence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be left behind, because I’m just- just mediocre!”

“You are a crucial member of our team, Konoha. Nothing will ever change that.” Washio assured him confidently, lifting Konoha’s spirits slightly. “You don’t need to prove yourself all the time to be worth something.”

Konoha gave a quiet sound of agreement. He hadn’t looked at it that way ever, and Washio’s words warmed his heart immensely. “You’re the best, Washio.” He noticed Washio turn away in mild bashfulness, and couldn’t help but to giggle. “Thank you.”


	22. Friendly Fire: IwaOi (READ NOTES)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trenches are horribly unpleasant, but even in the worst conditions, Iwaizumi and Oikawa have always had each other.  
> With so many things taken from them, it's hard for them to stay hopeful.  
> Especially when friendly fire threatens to char their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR WARNING FOR A LOT OF MENTIONED PAST DEATHS.  
> WARNING FOR WAR, WEAPONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEATH AND INJURY. 
> 
> THIS MAY BE THE MOST EVIL THING IVE WRITTEN.

Spending time in a trench absolutely sucked. The war between Aobajohsai and Shiratorizawa was dragging on way too long. Iwaizumi knew he was being disrespectful in saying that, as if he were casting away the deaths of his comrades and underclassmen like they were disposable paper towels. He was just tired, seeing children and civilians die.

“Iwa-chan, look at my boots! They’re _soaking_!” Oikawa wailed beside him, complaining that he had to take his boots off if he didn’t want his feet to rot away while he slept. Iwaizumi huffed in response, knowing that he was responsible for Oikawa’s wellbeing, as it was the other way around. “This is shitty. Why can’t they just give up already?”

Iwaizumi swallowed, attempting to get the metallic taste out of his mouth. His gums bled more often than not, with little to no prodding necessary. “Same reason why we’re not backing down. We’ve all lost someone precious in this war.” The memory of his deceased friends were etched deep into his mind; Kindaichi, Yahaba, Matsukawa’s smiles never faded in his heart.

“At least Akira is in the village, safe from the war.” Oikawa murmured, and Iwaizumi was taken back to the little one’s fond smile. He hadn’t seen him smile since Kindaichi had been picked to fight in the war. They all knew Kindaichi was too soft-hearted to kill another person. When the telegram came back to notify them that an explosive had took his life, Kunimi refused to eat or sleep properly for weeks.

To both of their relief, Kunimi was much too weak to enlist even if he wanted to. Oikawa had worried that Kunimi would join the war for the sole purpose of avenging Kindaichi’s death, but Kunimi had never been a healthy child. He had lost count of how many chest infections Kunimi had suffered through, even after the war began.

When it was Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s time to leave, Kunimi cried bitterly through many nights. _I don’t want to be alone, please, don’t leave me_. Unlike when Kindaichi died, Oikawa couldn’t assure Kunimi that he would be there for him, there to comfort him. Instead he and Iwaizumi pulled Kunimi into a tight embrace, unable to stop the tears of sorrow and frustration. Kunimi didn’t deserve to lose his family all over again.

Hanamaki swore to take care of Kunimi and give him every single one of their letters, and Iwaizumi was confident that he could slowly ease Kunimi into a normal life. But he knew he couldn’t replace him and Oikawa, not when they had already dedicated so much time to take care of Kunimi. Still, Kunimi had _someone_ to lean on.

“Oikawa, go to sleep. You have bags under your eyes.” Iwaizumi could see the effects of sleep deprivation all over Oikawa’s face. The rapid gunfire kept everyone awake, looking and listening for who survived and who didn’t. “I promise I’ll wake you up when something goes on.”

Oikawa nodded hesitantly, leaning his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. As well as the explosions and shots preventing them from falling asleep, it was impossible to get into a comfortable position in the trenches. When they woke up, their body would throb and ache all over. “Goodnight, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi struggled to keep his own drowsiness in check. His sleep was irregular at best, nonexistent at its worst. He needed to keep watch for Oikawa, in case the battle started again unexpectedly. Oikawa snoozed beside him, with the closest expression to peace that he could make during such a bleak, dark time.

As Oikawa caught up on all the hours of sleep he had spent firing guns and protecting himself, Iwaizumi peered into his boyfriend’s face lovingly. His skin was pale with fatigue and had lost its shine, but it was still the same Oikawa that he adored so much. He didn’t know how many more times he could see his sleeping face, so he savoured every detail and carved the details into his mind.

Iwaizumi often took time to stare at Oikawa while he was sleeping, even before they were sent to fight for their kingdom. Kindaichi was on the other side of Iwaizumi when they all slept on a bunch of futons lined up together, snoring lightly with his stomach uncovered. Iwaizumi would place the covers back onto him gently, kissing his forehead. No matter how old Kindaichi was, he was still Iwaizumi’s baby.

But his baby was gone, taken from him in an instant like all the other nameless, faceless teenagers. The Kindaichi who laughed and clapped his hands when they baked cinnamon pie and cried when Kunimi caught a cold, gone. The boy was much too young and sensitive for the battlefield. There was no possible way he could have survived.

A sudden shouting snapped Iwaizumi out of his trance. “We’re relocating!” Iwaizumi shook Oikawa awake hastily, grabbing their valued possessions and shoving them into his leather sack. Essential supplies, eating tin, a locket with a sepia photo of Kunimi and Kindaichi when they were ten years old. “Come on, Oikawa. Up.”

Oikawa stirred, then jumped awake. “Again?” He followed in Iwaizumi’s footsteps, taking all his belongings and placing his bag over his shoulders. “Where are we going?” He staggered up, drunk with fatigue. Iwaizumi smacked him on his head with his water bottle, painfully but effectively waking him up.

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” Iwaizumi marched behind the other soldiers, Oikawa right after him. He didn’t speak a word as he trudged through the mud and sludge, left from several rainy days. His boots were worn and caked with filth, but he forced his tired body to move through the murky land. Gunfire echoed in his ears, but everything was numb to him.

Their footsteps squelched as they made their way to their new battlefield. Moving from place to place was unpleasant, but it provided variety in their days filled with death and bloodshed. Iwaizumi was half asleep as he walked. He hit himself over and over to keep himself going. If he showed any signs of incompetence, he would be shot dead on the spot or blasted with a bomb shell.

“Iwa-chan, they’re doing something.” Oikawa rested his hand onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his voice laced with drowsiness. When Iwaizumi shifted to see what their superiors were planning to do, his eyes widened. They were going to use chemical warfare against their opponents. “It’s gas. God, I don’t want to see this.”

Iwaizumi tensed, remembering Yahaba’s smiling face, and then his terrified, bloodied face as he faced death. He had been killed with gas, too. It started with what seemed like a harmless runny nose, which grew into blindness and drowning on dry land. The writhing eyes and flailing limbs that eventually turned to stillness was something Iwaizumi could never forget.

He was only _seventeen_.

Even though Iwaizumi wished as much as anyone else for the war to end, he hated to know that others died in the same way his family did. Yahaba wasn’t remembered by anybody else present, other than Iwaizumi and Kyoutani who had been in the same squad as him at the time. His lifeless body was another part of the cart load, tossed in with the same care one would handle with a sack full of sand.

Iwaizumi heard screaming shortly after, but it wasn’t who he thought it was. “It’s backfiring! Put your gas masks on! Now!” He grabbed his mask and placed it over his face with trained accuracy, but noticed that Oikawa was having trouble with his. The panic has caused the mask to slip from his grasp, as the cloud of green came closer and closer.

“Shittikawa, _**get the damn thing on**_!”

Oikawa had seemingly put his mask on just in time, before the unlucky ones started to claw at their throats around them. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa into an embrace, not caring that he was being completely unprofessional and inappropriate. He was so close to losing someone he cared the most about, someone who had experienced all the deaths with him.

They cried, unable to stop themselves from bawling like children. They faced danger every day, but instances like this forced them to confront their mortality. And after every danger, they would assure themselves that they would die eventually, but not that day. But it was something they never got used to.

They lost Kindaichi, who was killed by fatal blast injuries and died on his own, with no family to hold his hand as he stared at his torn body. Yahaba, who suffered until the very end, coughing up blood until his entire front looked like several crimson roses had cruelly blossomed there. Matsukawa, who had bullets rain down on him mercilessly until a shot to the head killed him instantly.

All of them were full of smiles in Iwaizumi’s memories. But none of them could manage a brave grin or a heroic laugh as they withered away. Longing for home, crushing dread, terror. They died petrified, staring at their bleeding self and gaping injuries. Nome of them died proud for their kingdom. They died cursing the war, cursing their luck as they slipped away into a horrifying loneliness with nobody comforting them through their last moments.

Even as the troops marched on and hauled the dead into carts, Iwaizumi remained upset. He couldn’t tell how far he had travelled, but it was eventually safe enough to take off his mask and trudge on. The cold air bit into his face, and he could hear loud, irregular breathing behind him. Perhaps Oikawa was still crying. Iwaizumi didn’t blame him.

“Um, Iwa-chan.” After what seemed like hours, Oikawa suddenly spoke up. “My skin… it’s really sore. All over.” He whispered, his voice shaky like he was about to cry. Iwaizumi froze momentarily, realising how Yahaba’s skin had blisters all over it when he died.

“We’ll have a break soon. Can you hold on until then?” Iwaizumi pleaded, not knowing how to reassure him when he was terrified inside too. Oikawa only whined in response, and Iwaizumi’s shoulder with Oikawa’s arm on it grew heavier and heavier.

As they sat down among tall grass and weeds for a break, Iwaizumi noticed Oikawa stumbling as he settled himself down. “Hey. What’s happening?” He immediately shuffled beside Oikawa, and knew something was definitely wrong when Oikawa’s hands roamed through the air to find Iwaizumi.

“My eyes are burning, Iwa-chan. I can’t see anything.” Oikawa buried his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and Iwaizumi’s concern only deepened. “It hurts,” he moaned, and Iwaizumi felt panic settle into his veins.

Iwaizumi uncapped his water bottle, taking Oikawa’s head and pouring water into his irritated eyes. “Tell me if it gets worse, Oikawa. You’re going to get medical care right now.” He supported Oikawa’s weight as they made their way to their Lieutenant. “The gas from earlier’s been hurting him. He needs help.”

As Iwaizumi persuaded the Lieutenant to let him bring Oikawa to the medics, he noticed his shoulder becoming wetter by the second. “Oi, you’re… _bleeding_.” Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa’s paling face, that now had a bunch of blood running from his nose and off the chin. “Pinch the bridge of your nose. It’ll help stop it.”

Oikawa’s nosebleed continued for an abnormal amount of time as they made their way to the medical station. “It’s gross, Iwa-chan,” he complained, and Iwaizumi couldn’t blame him for that. It was Oikawa who was getting the worst between the two, and he was suffering from a whole plethora of pains and ailments. “I’m gonna be okay, right?”

Before Iwaizumi could get a word in with the medics, Oikawa suddenly doubled over in pain. “Hey, what’s happening?” He gently shook Oikawa’s shoulders, only causing him to groan and throw up weakly onto the ground. “Shit,” he muttered, checking Oikawa’s mouth so that he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. “I need someone here! He was exposed to gas!”

The medics finally paid attention to Iwaizumi, and started to peel back Oikawa’s clothes. The damage to his skin was already done, although his face was spared. Oozing, painful blisters had formed on his limbs and chest. The skin was a burned red where it wasn’t blistered, although Oikawa was too weak to lift his arm and scratch the itches that stung his body.

Treatment was far from pretty. Various powders and ointments were applied onto Oikawa’s painful skin, and though drowsy and fatigued, Oikawa still felt all of the pain that came with it. “God, it hurts, Iwa-chan. It hurts.” He cut himself off with a harsh cough, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Iwaizumi hadn’t seen his boyfriend in such a pathetic state, ever.

“They’re gonna make it better, Oikawa. I’m here for you, okay?” Iwaizumi’s attempts to soothe Oikawa weren’t working as well as he hoped they would. Oikawa would squirm uncomfortably or wail in agony whenever something touched his skin, crying out helplessly. “You’re such a strong guy, Oikawa. You’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

“I- I’m _not_ ,” Oikawa sobbed continuously, tears dripping from his unseeing eyes. “I wanna be with Yuutarou and Akira.” Iwaizumi felt a twinge of heartbreak of his two adopted kids; one dead, one lonely without them. “And Mattsun and Makki. Yahaba. Kyouken-chan.” He went off on a ramble, drunkenly listing all his friends and family that he adored the most.

 “Yeah, I know. I want to see them too.” Iwaizumi voiced out his own wishful thinking, as well as trying to comfort Oikawa. A few medics glared at him, but he ignored them and continued. “I love them all. But I love _you_ , Oikawa.” He gripped one of Oikawa’s fingers, that had been spared from the blistering. All Oikawa could manage was a twitch, but it was enough for them to communicate.

Until the war ended, Iwaizumi couldn’t leave him or let him leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos pls


	23. Self-Sacrifice: Ushijima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a certain student from the dorm is punished unjustly, Shiratorizawa is fixated on making sure it never happens again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs*  
> This is an au where they're all at a shitty boarding school/orphanage 
> 
> It was somehow inspired by a certain Roald Dahl book

“I won’t do it again! I- I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Scream after scream echoed in the empty classroom, followed by a crack of solid hitting solid. The Shiratorizawa dorm students anxiously waited for the smacks and cries of pain to stop, but the punishment was going on for an unnervingly long amount of time. They bit their lips, chewed on their nails and tapped their foot to distract themselves from the anger and sympathy that twisted their guts.

“The kid won’t be able to write for a week, at this stage.” Tendou murmured worriedly. It was a rite of passage that every child in the school had to go through at some stage, but even then, it had been a while since he’d seen something so merciless. The last time someone had received so many lashings, it was because they had shattered the glass panes in the dormitories.

Semi rubbed his temples, longing for the child to come out of the room already. “How many canings has it been? I’ve lost count after the first fifty. He’s been in there for so long.” He kept pacing around the room, sitting down on the bed briefly to stretch his legs, only to get back up and repeat the steps all over again.

“No point counting. Doubt the kiddo knows, either.” Tendou had stolen ice packs from the nurse’s office for the boy when his punishment was over, but he could still hear him whimpering weakly while receiving another round of merciless flaying. Tendou had often faced punishment when he was the same age as the boy, and the only thing he remembered was pain and resentment. “What matters is that he’s hurting, and he probably doesn’t deserve it.”

“He is only eight years old, or so I recall.” Ushijima spoke up, joining the worried students’ hushed conversation. “What did he do to receive such a punishment?”

Shirabu hopped onto the bed, laying his head on Semi’s lap. “He’s a rich kid,” he explained, and a hum came from the third years. “Well, _was_ a rich kid. His parents died, some say they were killed. But obviously, the kid doesn’t understand life outside his own little secluded world just yet.”

“So that’s why he asked about breakfast in bed.” Yamagata nodded, connecting the dots together. “He probably said something implying that, then. The teachers hate rich kids.” They all knew the boy wasn’t trying to spite the teacher, or annoy them on purpose. He was just confused. His parents being taken from him in a matter of minutes, and getting thrown into an environment that was less than welcoming.

“Is he okay?” Kawanishi peered through the crack of the door, that was supposed to be shut all the way. “I can’t really see anything from here, except for the cane moving. How long is this even gonna last?” He moved away and shut the door, realising that there was no point in trying to spy on the unfortunate child.

“Kawanishi and Shirabu, get into bed. If either of you are seen up right now, they can punish you.” Reon ushered the two younger students into their beds, pulling their covers up to their necks. Bedtimes depended on age; half nine for eight years and under, half ten for nine to thirteen. The older ones could have a lamp on until midnight, but they were rarely punished for staying up past that. Their reactions weren’t entertaining for them. The children were hit the most often, because they would scream and cry.

The clock’s hands moved towards ten minutes to eleven, and the noises finally stopped. Uneven footsteps made their way to Shiratorizawa dorm, and all of the students swallowed thickly, waiting for the sight that would greet their eyes. The door opened with a click, and the oldest students lifted themselves off the bed to make their way towards the boy.

An audible “Shit,” escaped Tendou’s lips as he lay his eyes on the terrified boy. His face was a mess of tears and snot, and blood had seeped into his sleeves from where he had been struck repeatedly. “He’s so hurt, what do we do?” The boy was shivering violently, still muttering apologies unstoppably.

“Hey, you’re Goshiki Tsutomu, right?” Reon crouched down to Goshiki’s level, slowly extending a hand towards him. Goshiki let out a short gasp, curling away from Reon. “We won’t hurt you, I promise. Can you show me your arms?” Goshiki was apprehensive, but unsure. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. He winced as he pulled back his sleeves, skin sticking to the fabric with blood. His arms were covered in welts, in every grotesque colour imaginable. The skin was struck so hard that it broke and started to bleed.

Tendou pressed an ice pack to his arms and Goshiki winced, letting out a pained hiss. “Those bastards. He didn’t deserve any of this.” Tendou was fuming, stroking Goshiki’s hair as he struggled to hold back his tears. His bowl cut was disheveled, and his eyes were puffy from bawling uncontrollably. “Hey, Tsutomu. You’re gonna be okay. It wasn’t your fault, they’re just horrible people.”

“Why,” Goshiki sobbed, nestling in Tendou’s lap, “Then why did they hurt me so much?” The eight-year-old’s life had been thrusted into hell from the moment his parents died. The transition between being treated like a little treasure and a horrible vermin was too much for him, and it had severely impacted his mental wellbeing. “I just wanted a goodnight kiss.”

Goshiki slept in Tendou’s bed, whimpering and squirming as he tried to find a position that didn’t leave him crying out in agony. No matter how many times Tendou shushed him gently and whispered to him, that he was safe with them, Goshiki didn’t stop panicking and crying that they would get him again and hit him until his arms had no skin left on them.

The next morning, Ushijima woke up to Goshiki attempting to lift himself up with his injured arms, his lips pressed into a tight frown. After a few futile attempts, he seemingly gave up and swung his body up after gathering momentum and using his legs to push himself up. The boy wasn’t sobbing anymore, but his eyes were filled with unexpressed pain as he undid the buttons of his clothes and put on his uniform.

“Come on, let’s get breakfast. I’m starving!”

Yamagata led the way for the students to get their morning meal, ushering the young ones to line up in an orderly manner as they received their food in the hall. It wasn’t anything delicious, and mainly consisted of thin rice gruel and picked radish. He sat down beside Semi, playing with his watered-down gruel before reluctantly starting to eat the tasteless food.

Goshiki’s wrist trembled continuously as he attempted to spoon the gruel into his mouth. With each attempt to move his arm up, he winced and lowered it again. With a defeated sigh, he turned to Semi’s and tapped his side. “Um, can you help me eat?” He muttered, looking around for anyone that could punish him. “I can’t lift my arm.”

Semi’s gaze shifted to Goshiki’s arms, bruised and painful beneath the sleeves. “Sure. You can’t help that you’re hurt.” He moved beside the boy, scooping up some rice and bringing it to his mouth. Goshiki eagerly devoured the thin gruel, gratified to get something to eat. He was hungry and desperate, and was willing to eat anything.

“Thank you very much.” Goshiki bowed his head. The shine had returned to his eyes, and he would have some of the energy an eight-year-old needed to function throughout the day. The breakfast wasn’t filling, but it was much better than being starved.

When Goshiki stumbled back into the dormitory after the school hours, everyone could instantly tell that something was wrong. He was sniffling in a way that gave away the fact that he had just been crying. He backed up against the bed, slumping down and resting his forehead on his knees.

“Tsutomu~?” Tendou tapped Goshiki’s shoulder gently, approaching him with an air of friendliness. “Hey, what happened? Are you hurt?”

Goshiki twitched, lifting his head up to see Tendou. “They slammed my head into the blackboard,” he whispered, anxious that somebody would hear him and punish him again. “I couldn’t write properly, and my handwriting was too messy.” He didn’t talk above a hiss, as if the walls had ears and the ceilings had eyes.

“They make me sick. That’s so horrible.” Tendou stroked Goshiki’s cheek, cursing whoever hurt the sensitive child. He may have been called a monster by his teachers and classmates, but the real monsters were the ones who beat children in their single digits and blamed them for expressing pain and emotion.

“My mama told me that I was a good kid,” Goshiki said in a hushed voice, as if he was telling a forbidden secret to Tendou. “But they told me I was hit because I was a bad kid. Am I really a bad kid, after all? Do they think I did something terrible? Am I not allowed to have hugs and kisses anymore?”

Tendou wrapped his arms around Goshiki’s body, lifting him up and sitting him down on his thighs. “If you want a hug or a kiss, just ask anyone in this room. But never anyone else, especially the adults, got that?” Goshiki nodded, and Tendou ruffled his bowl cut. “Try not to show pain or sadness in front of them. They’re horrible people, and they might try to do bad things, even if you did nothing wrong.”

“But… But my parents told me I should always express myself. Is that wrong too?” Goshiki murmured fearfully, and Tendou let out a defeated sigh. “What am I meant to do? I don’t understand. I don’t understand why.”

Nobody could say anything against him. Besides being slightly sheltered, Goshiki had been given almost perfect parenting and discipline. Having to undo that just to make him fit into an unpleasant mould was something none of them wanted to do. But they knew Goshiki wouldn’t survive with the same mentality he had in his former home.

Just as Tendou and the others thought Goshiki had adjusted well enough to stop being caned, disaster struck. Goshiki hadn’t been feeling well that day, swaying on his feet as he walked and almost choking while trying to muffle his chesty coughs. Semi and Reon had urged him to rest, but couldn’t force him to stay in bed. There was always the possibility of teachers feeling like punishing ill students.

“Now, come on. Classes are over. Let’s get you to bed.”

Tendou and Kawanishi held Goshiki’s warm hands as they ushered him back to the Shiratorizawa dorm, making sure that he didn’t topple over to one side. “Bed..?” Goshiki mumbled deliriously. “I won’t- I won’t be punished?”

“No, you won’t.”

Kawanishi let go of Goshiki’s hand for a split second to touch his forehead, but the child started to walk towards the window, his eyes fixated on a point in the wall. “Mama? You- you’re here?” His arms waved around frantically, attempting to grasp the figure of his mother that was no more. “Mama?”

“He’s completely delirious,” Tendou rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, gesturing for Kawanishi to help him pick Goshiki up. But they were too late. When Goshiki’s hand knocked against a lone, flowerless vase, Tendou and Kawanishi realised that there was no saving it.

A sharp crash echoed, and Goshiki pulled back from the shattered remains of the glass in pure mortification. “I broke it,” his voice barely above a whisper, he started shaking violently as he realised exactly what he had done. “Oh no. No, no, no.” The students from his dorm started gathering in the hallway to see what had caused the noise, and other pupils joined them shortly after.

“Please don’t tell me my assumptions are right.” Semi’s question was met with a grim nod from Tendou. “What do we do? He’s going to really have it this time, if they find out it was him.” Although it was unclear whether Semi’s words reached Goshiki’s ears, the boy started to panic even worse, working himself up to the point of hyperventilation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, don’t hit me anymore! Please!” Goshiki’s eyes started to lose its spark, tears glistening on his fever-flushed cheeks. His breathing came in panicked gasps, slowly constricting his throat. “I don’t want to be hurt again! I’ll be good!”

“Hey, Tsutomu, it’s me. Look at me, okay?” Tendou approached Goshiki carefully, his hand brushing against his arm. The innocent touch caused Goshiki to scream and scuttle away, although not much distance was between them as the fever slowed him down. Before Tendou could come any closer, Goshiki let out a terrified hiccup, bringing up a mess of sick down his front and onto the floor.

He retched over and over again until there was nothing left, and his breathing started to slow down after he finished throwing up. Tears, snot and drool trailed down his face miserably, dripping onto the wooden floor beneath him. Semi extended a hand towards him, making sure that he was calm enough to register him as non-violent. “It’s okay. We won’t let anything happen to you.” He lay a cautious hand on his shoulder, whispering to him in a steady tone.

“Why is that vermin crying?”

Goshiki tensed up at the all-too-familiar abrasive voice, gripping Semi’s shoulders until his knuckles turned white. Semi wrapped his arms around his middle protectively, noticing the abnormal amount of heat radiating off it. “He heard the vase breaking, and it set off a flashback. He’ll be okay soon.” Semi knew he wasn’t lying, and held Goshiki tighter to ensure that he wouldn’t be handed over to be punished.

“Well, who broke the glass?”

Both Semi and Goshiki froze, but before they could plan something to avoid Goshiki getting in trouble, a voice swiftly cut off their thoughts.

“I broke it. I am responsible for the whole incident.”

Ushijima’s face remained unchanging as he stated his explanation flatly, making it seem like he was unaware of what planting the blame on himself meant. Shirabu, Tendou and the other students fought to keep a neutral face, not knowing what else to do besides keep their mouths shut.

“Are you, now? What a surprise. Well, in that case, I hope you’re prepared for an appropriate punishment.”

“I am.”

Semi could feel the intense aura between the two, without even looking. Intense fear pounded in his veins as Ushijima upheld his unyielding attitude, and he had an urge to laugh and cry at the spectacle. “Get over here, then.” The teacher grabbed Ushijima’s arm, failing to drag his large frame off as he did with the little children.

Ushijima didn’t speak or move a muscle in his face as he was taken to an empty office, standing in the middle of the room without a sound. “That vase was expensive, Ushijima. Property damage results in severe punishment, I’m sure you know that.” Ushijima made a noise of agreement, which only infuriated the teacher further.

“Fucking bastard!”

Without prior warning, a stick of bamboo struck Ushijima on the shoulder, causing him to sway to one side. Hot pain shot down his arm, and he instinctively gripped his injured shoulder with his other hand protectively. Attacks rained down on him again and again, leaving painful marks on every inch of his body.

He curled into himself, forced to take the beatings with nothing to defend himself with. His arms and legs throbbed the most, having taken the majority of the damage. Books were thrown into his face, one hitting his eyelid that wasn’t quite protected by his bruised arms. A part of his heart wanted to cry, but he refused to let that happen.

When the torrent of violence finally ceased, Ushijima realised just how much he was bleeding. His nose was caked with dried blood, and the fabric of his shirt stuck to his stomach with blood. He exited the room almost mechanically, limping to the right side and dragging his palm against the wall to prop himself up.

“Ushijima-san?”

A voice laced with fear greeted him as he stepped into the dormitory, followed by hushed whispers from the older students. “Are you very hurt?” Shirabu asked immediately, looking around for something that could help Ushijima. “Semi-san, get him something to wipe the blood!”

Tendou, Yamagata and Reon assessed Ushijima’s injuries, cleaning them and applying cold packs where the bruises were. Ushijima remained stoic, thanking them politely and letting Tendou dote all over him and letting him kiss his bruised cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here right now,” Tendou hugged Ushijima tightly, and Ushijima returned the embrace despite his bruises aching all over.

“Um, Ushijima-san?” A small voice piped up below Ushijima, attracting his attention. “Thank you, for saving me. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.” Goshiki used his two hands to cup Ushijima’s palm, rubbing it gently and comfortingly. “I want to make it up to you.”

“There is no need,” Ushijima said plainly, patting Goshiki’s head. “Hearing your gratitude is enough.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. Nothing relieved him more than seeing Goshiki well and safe, especially after he had witnessed his broken, panicked state.

Goshiki pointed to the beds, waving his hand at Ushijima to signal him to come. “I want to sleep beside you tonight,” he said, rolling himself onto Ushijima’s bed.

“Hey, Goshiki! No fair! I wanna sleep with Wakatoshi-kun too!” Tendou piped up, puffing his cheeks out.

“Then we can all share the one bed,” Ushijima suggested, laying beside Goshiki with a fond smile. “I’m sure we can fit. Goshiki is of smaller stature than the two of us.”

Tendou cackled, tickling Goshiki’s ribs. “You’re small, he said!” He translated Ushijima’s words jokingly, poking fun at Goshiki lovingly. “Now, come on. Let’s go to sleep, does that sound good?”

“Uh-huh!” Goshiki nodded, holding Ushijima’s arm as he pulled up the covers and nestled into him. “You’re my hero! When I get older and my voice goes deeper, I wanna be like you!” Ushijima wrapped an arm around the sweet child, his heart warming as he became surrounded by the family he loved.

“Ah! Wakatoshi-kun, are you crying?” Tendou pointed out, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “It’s okay, it’s okay! We’re here for you!”

“Mhm,” Ushijima rubbed his cheeks against Tendou’s, enjoying the warmth that it brought him. He was crying, but he wasn’t upset at all. It was a strange feeling, but he liked the company around him, easing his pain. Comfort sank into him, and he was with a family he would sacrifice everything to care for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *triple dabs*  
> Kudos and comments PL s


	24. Drowning: BokuAka (READ NOTES)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's drowning himself in his emotions, until he can't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tw: graphic descriptions of suicide attempt and self harm**
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> Please stay safe and don't read if you think that would be triggering/make you uncomfortable.

Akaashi didn’t have a good feeling in his gut as he came home from school. Bokuto wasn’t there, which was odd considering that he never missed a day and had to be physically dragged off the court if he was sick or hurt. The messages he left were unanswered, and text bubbles of the same colour lined up unsettlingly. He knew Bokuto was probably just sick or had some minor issue that kept him at home, but the abnormality still worried him.

He entered his house, taking off his bag just so he would have less burden to carry with him on the way. His mind was made already, but he knew he needed to tell his mother in person rather than texting her. He didn’t know how to convey the bizarre set of emotions that took over him in pixelated letters, and he also hated to see her worry.

“Mom,” Akaashi called from the genkan, leaving his shoes on. “I want to visit Bokuto-san. I have this feeling that something’s happened to him.” His mother emerged from the living room, her hair up in a messy bun. “I know it probably isn’t anything, but I want to know that he’s okay.”

His mother let out a hum. “If your gut is telling you that, then you should probably go.” She agreed to let him see how Bokuto was doing, and Akaashi was eternally thankful that he had such an understanding mother. “You have a very good intuition. This is the time you use it.” After giving Akaashi a brief hug, she waved him off without holding him back.

“Thanks, mom.” Akaashi waved back to his mother, closing the door and facing forward. If he was going to visit Bokuto, he had to be quick about it. It was dark enough for it to be fairly dangerous walking alone, and if something bad _had_ happened to Bokuto, he couldn’t waste the time he had. He took hurried steps down the path, breaking into a jog as he reached the housing estate Bokuto lived in.

Although it was too dark to make out the kanji on the name plates, Akaashi had been to Bokuto’s so many times that he could navigate the way with his eyes closed. When he located the house, none of the lights were on, not even the one in Bokuto’s room. He assumed Bokuto was asleep, which would have been perfectly natural if he had come down with something. But he had come to Bokuto’s house because he had doubt eating away at his heart that told him it could be something else.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi pressed the buzzer beside the door, waiting a few moments before realising that he wasn’t going to get a response. He pushed the button again, tapping his finger onto his crossed arms. Frustration burned through him. There was a chance that Bokuto wasn’t at home at all, but he always told Akaashi his whereabouts if he wasn’t at home. Even though he had no solid proof Bokuto was there, Akaashi was determined to get into the house and see for himself what was wrong.

Although Akaashi wanted to force his way in with whatever method he had, he doubted Bokuto’s parents would be pleased with him if he went ahead and broke into their house. He didn’t have his phone with him, thinking it would be unnecessary if he was just checking up on Bokuto. Digging around in his pocket, Akaashi made his way over to the phone box a few minutes away from Bokuto’s house.

He had a couple of ten yen coins, but there was no point if he didn’t know what number to call. Akaashi went through all of the numbers he knew in his contacts, desperately jogging his memory to remember Bokuto’s mother’s number. He smacked his head with his palm over and over again, until he remembered Bokuto humming a handy catchphrase that helped him remember his mother’s number when he was lost as a kid.

“Five, eight, nine,” Akaashi murmured, humming the rhyme Bokuto taught him to himself. He couldn’t figure out how the rhyme connected to the numbers in the phone number, and he had about four guesses that were equally plausible. He only had enough money for three phone calls. “Two, seven, four.”

The first number only played a message, and Akaashi has no choice but to move onto his second guess. After five rings, Akaashi almost slammed the phone down. He couldn’t just go on with his wild imagination dictating his actions. He was going to call his mother and ask her to get Bokuto’s mother if the call wasn’t successful. Mothers seemed to know every other mother within a fifty kilometre radius.

“Hello? This is Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s mother had picked up, to Akaashi’s immense relief and surprise. He could hardly get started, but he knew his time was limited. Ten yen didn’t buy many seconds of calls. “I’m worried about Bokuto-san. He hasn’t been answering my calls, or the door. Can I please be allowed inside somehow?” He spoke even faster than his mother, and he wasn’t sure if Bokuto’s mother understood a word of what he had just said.

“He told me he had a stomachache, but he didn’t let me stay at home to take care of him. He was happy to send me off with my husband for our business meeting.” There was a hint of concern in her voice, and Akaashi knew that his worry wasn’t coming from a totally irrational place. “I trust you enough, Akaashi. Crouch down and look under one of the plant pots near the door. You’ll find a spare key.”

Before Akaashi could thank her, the call ended abruptly and Akaashi sprinted back to the house. He fell to his knees, not caring that the force of the landing scraped him painfully. With not enough care he could have taken, he lifted the plant pots, getting soil all over himself in the process of finding the key. It was a tedious and time-consuming operation to carry out in the dark, but Akaashi finally had his hands on the spare key.

With no hesitation and doubt pressing against his mind, Akaashi jammed the key inside the hole, twisting it until he heard a click. He pressed his body into the door with all the energy he had, swinging it open and stepping inside. It was too dark for him to move around comfortably. He took off his shoes and glided his grimy hands against the wall until he found a switch, and the house instantly lit up with a lively glow.

Akaashi looked below him, and realised just how much of a mess he was making. There was soil all over the genkan, and his clothes were sullied from the crawling around. He made his way up the stairs, praying that what he would see would prove that his gut feeling was wrong. He needed to see Bokuto giggling and safe, with the same smile he had on during practice.

“Bokuto-san? Are you okay?” He called out, a little louder than necessary. Bokuto wasn’t in his room when Akaashi looked, and although he wished for Bokuto to come out with a “Ta-da!” from the closet along with some corny boyfriend joke, he knew that it was too far-fetched. “Kou? Koutarou?” Akaashi made his way back to the upstairs hall, which was absolutely silent, except for…

A splash and a drip reached Akaashi’s ears, although it was faint enough to be cancelled out by almost any other noise. “Are you in the bathroom?” Akaashi had no intentions to spy on his boyfriend bathing, however close they were. But he knew everything was too out of place for him to let it go so easily. 

Akaashi pushed the door open, and a clearer splash sounded just beside him. There was the sound of water, swirling around and leaking out of the bathtub. A figure that was unmistakably his boyfriend’s came into his view. He didn’t understand why Bokuto would take a bath when it was pitch dark. His worry only grew stronger when Bokuto didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Surely he wasn’t _asleep_ in the bathtub.

“Koutarou.”

A single colour jumped out at Akaashi when he turned the light on.

Red. A morbid amount of red was what Akaashi’s eyes took in. The water Bokuto was laying fully clothed in had grotesque swirls of crimson. The sides of the bathtub had coagulated blood smeared on it, and splotches of dark red were spread out unevenly on the pale tiles. Akaashi wanted to throw up, but he blinked back his tears and approached Bokuto’s limp body.

“Kou, can you hear me? Kou?!” Akaashi’s gaze dropped to Bokuto’s arms, covered in fresh cuts that were deep enough to show the fat tissue. The directions and lengths were inconsistent, leading Akaashi to believe that Bokuto had impulsively harmed himself without thinking about the scars. And it was because he wouldn’t ever think about them if he were dead.

But he wasn’t. Bokuto was breathing, although it was so faint that Akaashi feared he would stop altogether any minute. And oh _god_ , there were several injures on his thighs too. “Don’t die. Don’t _fucking_ die!” Akaashi bolted out of the bathroom, tumbling into the nearest room and looking for a phone. Shaky fingers dialled the emergency services, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing as his heart pounded desperately. “Please, Koutarou. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave this world.”

Akaashi’s mind turned hazy as he waited for the ambulance to arrive. He slumped down against the wall, knowing that he had done everything he could to save Bokuto. If Bokuto didn’t make it, there was nothing he could do except grieve until he was a shell of what he used to be. Uncontrolled, ugly sobs escaped Akaashi’s mouth. His boyfriend’s name repeated itself over and over again, as if it would get lost in the void if Akaashi stopped saying it.

When Akaashi finally snapped out of the trance, he was outside the treatment room in hospital. He was asked numerous questions about Bokuto, but his words choked him and he couldn’t answer. Words like _suicide_ and _self injury_ buzzed in his mind. He couldn’t tell whether he had heard the doctors say it, or his mind was making up things.

A blankness filled Akaashi up, time slowing down and trapping him like thick goo. The white lights and never-ending tiles blinded him, and Bokuto never disappeared from his mind. He couldn’t say goodbye to him, just yet. He didn’t know or ponder upon where people went when they died, since he wouldn’t see them ever again. But the thought of losing Bokuto was unbearable, and he needed to hold onto something, anything. His loving, beautiful boyfriend’s soul couldn’t end right there and then. He had so much to do, so much to experience. One life wasn’t enough for him if he ended it so cruelly and suddenly.

Bokuto and Akaashi’s mothers were crying beside him. Their tears were filled with disbelief and longing. Bokuto wasn’t meant to die before they turned old and weary. Bokuto was meant to reach out and grab his glistening future, wearing it proudly like a badge of honour. His eyes were meant to shine with wonder, not close forever after his body lost the struggle for life. 

Akaashi needed to hear Bokuto’s voice again. He could imagine Bokuto’s presence floating away to somewhere he could never reach no matter how far he stretched out his arms. Did Bokuto long for Akaashi, like the second year desperately needed him now? Did his skin yearn for a gentle touch, that would stay with him through everything?

“He’s going to pull through.”

Akaashi let out a strangled gasp. Bokuto was going to be okay. He wasn’t disappearing to somewhere Akaashi could never reach him. “Koutarou,” he whispered, feeling the grasp on his name. It had a life to it now. _Koutarou_. He was alive, just like his name filled with light and warmth. “Koutarou.” Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s life with every blink of his eyes, every breath he sucked in.

For several nights, Akaashi lay still, unable to sleep. When the question of life or death was answered, another one took its place. He needed the answers, he needed the words straight from Bokuto’s lips. But Bokuto was in intensive care, and nobody could see him unless they were there to treat him. Doctors could stitch his wounds and keep his vitals stable, but what about his heart, split open over and over again with no sutures to hold it all together?

A familiar face stayed with Akaashi as the weekend approached. Kuroo was a mess, his emotions and words all over the place. He couldn’t understand, and neither did Akaashi. “Dammit, Bokuto. Why did you think this was the way?” Kuroo hadn’t been put through the doubt of whether Bokuto would survive or die. What he started off with was the fact that Bokuto had attempted suicide, but didn’t die from it.. He needed to know the reason, and so did Akaashi.

“I never thought he would do this. He was always just so… goofy. I thought he loved life.” Kuroo murmured, and Akaashi couldn’t disagree with him. The two shared a tender, painful hug, knowing that they had both failed to see the signs Bokuto was showing, if there were any. He always brought light into the lives of others, but only a handful of those people realised that he was more than just a ball of sunshine. He hurt and cried just like others, and made horrible decisions about his own life.

When Akaashi could finally visit Bokuto, he was still weak and his skin was devoid of colour. There was no IV attached to his arm, or a heavy machine that monitored his body. “Keiji,” his voice was scratchy, and he was completely detached from the energetic atmosphere he once had around him. “I wanted to see you. All these days.”

Bokuto went in for a hug, and Akaashi held him gently like he was handling a newborn. “I did too, Koutarou. I love you.” Akaashi stroked Bokuto’s hair, flat with no sign of its usual spikiness. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you before it came to this, Kou. I want to make sure this never happens again, and I’ll be there for you as long as you need me.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Bokuto pressed his face into Akaashi’s shirt, muffling his voice. “I tried to kill myself because I felt horrible, and it wasn’t because of you. You helped me last so long. You saved my life, Keiji. Thank you so much.” He brushed his palms off Akaashi’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that kept rolling down his cheeks like marbles. 

Recovery wasn’t easy for anyone. Akaashi often saw Bokuto curled up in his room punching his pillow, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes. Sometimes the medication and treatment made his life a lot easier, sometimes all it did was leave him broken and sobbing because he didn’t feel better and he wanted to hurt himself. But however bumpy the road was, Akaashi and Bokuto knew they couldn’t let another tragedy occur.

“How was the session today?” Akaashi sat on the edge of Bokuto’s bed, placing his hand in his soft hair. Bokuto lay on his bed face down, letting out a groan. There were times Bokuto liked going to therapy. He would feel comfortable talking, and would come back with a smile. Today was not one of those times. “If you don’t want to say anything, that’s okay. Just tell me what you want to get off your chest.”

“Akaashi, I don’t feel happy.” Bokuto nestled beside Akaashi, holding his sleeve like a lost child. “Before I tried to die, I didn’t feel anything sometimes. And then I was drowning in _everything_ a few days later. It just never balanced.” Bokuto’s eyes showed nothing. Numbness radiated off him, and Akaashi almost shattered. He couldn’t believe that Bokuto had been suffering from something so serious, and nobody even thought twice about his mental health. “Now, I just feel tired and sad all the time.”

Akaashi nodded, carefully processing all the information Bokuto revealed to him. “What makes it worse?” He couldn’t understand Bokuto’s emotions completely, but he was adamant on making his life even a little easier. Bokuto lay on his stomach, staring at the ceiling without showing any positive or negative emotion.

“Thinking about school, and everyone I hurt.” Bokuto rested his palms on either side of his cheek, pulling up his sleeves to the top of his wrists. “I hurt them, and I need to make it up to them. But it’s probably too late. They’re going to think I’m gonna try to kill myself again.”

Akaashi wrapped a lone arm around Bokuto’s shoulder, pulling him closer until their body heat started blending together. “You’re going to explain that to them, but that can wait until later. The most important thing you can do right now is focus on recovering.” It was nothing new, Bokuto putting others before himself. But he couldn’t continue doing that, not when his own self needed care and attention the most.

“Is that okay? I can focus on… getting better?”

“Yes.” Akaashi threw a piece of candy from the bowl beside them into Bokuto’s hand, ruffling Bokuto’s hair and watching it stick up at an uneven angle. “There’s nothing more important than that.” It was going to take a long time before Bokuto would learn how to put himself first, but Akaashi was going to teach him. He was going to make sure Bokuto could smile from his heart.


	25. Miya Twins: Restrains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one goes missing, the other can't rest until they're safe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi this is my first Miya Twins work send me love

“Samuuu!”

Atsumu called out for his twin, looking around for him in every corner of the club room. “If you’re trying to prank me, it’s not working!” Atsumu folded his arms, running a hand through his mustard hair exasperatedly. With a huff of impatience, he dug around the uniforms to get changed.

“You’re not with Osamu today?” Ojiro cocked his head curiously, his features pulled into a confused frown. Already changed, he pulled his supporters on and urged Atsumu to get changed before he would be reprimanded for being too slow. “Pretty rare of you to come to the club room on your own.”

Atsumu’s head snapped around, almost indignantly. “We’re not joined at the hip, you know! Osamu isn’t all of my existence!” He grumbled, digging around for his uniform and pulling it over his head. He stopped, dug around again and pulled out Osamu’s uniform, puzzled. “He definitely hasn’t arrived before us for practice. Just what is he doing?”

“Right, sorry. But I don’t know either.” Ojiro shrugged, making his way over to Suna. “Did you see Osamu during class?”

“He was there for all periods.” Suna replied, his tone neutral. His eyebrows were raised in suspicion, but there wasn’t anything he knew about Osamu’s apparent disappearance. He was just as confused as Atsumu, who grunted and got ready to exit the club room.

“Do you think he went home? Maybe he drank some stale milk and has diarrhoea.” Riseki suggested, which made Ojiro snort.

“We all know that happened to Atsumu, not him.” Ojiro pointed out mercilessly. Atsumu let out an offended squawk, crossing his arms. He knew he couldn’t say anything, because it was true. And to make it worse, he knew the milk was left out for an entire afternoon in July. He just hadn’t thought of what would happen. That evening, he became best friends with the toilet inevitably, much to Osamu's mild entertainment and ire. 

Suna stared at Atsumu with an unimpressed look. “Come on. Let’s head to practice. We’ll look into this if Osamu doesn’t turn up in half an hour.” Kita poked his head into the club room, reminding his teammates that they were there to practice and not chat. “If you guys natter too much, it’s an extra twenty laps.”

“Gah! Kita-san, anything but that!” Atsumu let out an obnoxious screech, bouncing out of the club room while trying to put on his knee supporters. As Ojiro called after him to not trip and hurt himself, he couldn’t help but to feel slightly uneasy. Osamu wasn’t there to feed his mischievous fire and start petty arguments.

As Kita started up the practice, Atsumu stayed close to him so maybe he would see how much he needed to find Osamu. “Hey, Kita-san, let’s do receives!” Atsumu suggested, taking out a crate of volleyballs before Kita could object. Although Kita let him stick around and practice with him, what Atsumu really wanted was to immediately go on a hunt for Osamu.

“That’s it. Atsumu, we’re stopping.”

Kita put down the volleyball in mild exasperation. Atsumu shifted his gaze to the ground guiltily, glancing at all the volleyballs that went everywhere because of his failed receives. He knew Kita had a right to scold him. He knew he was all over the place, but he needed to know where Osamu was.

“Come on. We’re going to find your idiot brother.” Kita gathered the team around, giving out orders for them to search the school and the surrounding area. “If Atsumu can’t calm down, we should investigate. In case something bad happened to Osamu.” Kita ruffled Atsumu’s hair, calming him down slightly. Kita was on his side, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

Kita and Atsumu searched the bathrooms, while the rest split up to look for Osamu in their assigned spots. “Samu? Hey, are you in here?” Atsumu called out, while Kita attempted to reach Osamu’s phone several times. “Any luck calling him, Kita-san?”

Kita shook his head, exiting the fourth bathroom that they had searched. “Try dialling your parents. Maybe he went home.”

“No, I texted them. He isn’t home.” Atsumu let out a defeated sigh, holding onto Kita’s arm with uncertainly written all over his face. What he assumed was a prank became increasingly worrying. He suddenly wanted to cry. He loved Osamu, even if they bickered and screamed over Winning Eleven and custard puddings. “Kita-san, what should I do? What if Osamu isn’t okay?”

“Hey, Atsumu. I’m sure we’ll find him soon.” Kita rubbed Atsumu’s cheek, comforting him the best he could. “Don’t look so down. Osamu’s strong, he’ll be fine.”

Atsumu nodded, his mind taking him back to the volleyball practice earlier on. He had taken away Kita’s valuable time, and forced the entire team to look for his brother. If he sulked now, he couldn’t bring himself to face his teammates later. “Let’s return to the gymnasium. Maybe Osamu did turn up.”

There was nobody at first glance when Kita and Atsumu entered the gymnasium. “I guess he’s somewhere else. But god, he’s so going to get it when I find him.” Atsumu muttered. He knew he would probably punch Osamu if he was hiding somewhere on purpose, but his gut told him that wasn’t it. He couldn’t stand not seeing the same face with the opposite fringe beside him, acting like a generally annoying sibling.

“Hey, Kita-san, are we only using one net today?” Atsumu pointed out, gesturing towards the net-less court to his right. Normally they used more than one volleyball net to accommodate the large number of club members, but there was only one net set up when Atsumu came to practice. “Did one of them break?”

“One of them got lost. It wasn’t in the storage closet when I looked for it with Ojiro.”

A thought struck Atsumu, and he became drawn to the storage rooms behind the gymnasium. There were two side by side, and the rooms were locked immediately after use. “Can we look in the storage rooms? You can get the keys, right?” Atsumu dragged Kita over to the darkening hallway, looking for the hooks the keys hung on.

“You think Osamu might be in there?” Kita picked up on Atsumu’s hunch immediately, following him to the storage room and unlocking the door. Atsumu marched in before him, calling for Osamu as he opened various closets and lifted up pieces of equipment that could hide Osamu.

“Hey! Osamu! Are you here? Are you okay?” Atsumu turned everything in the room upside down, frantically searching for his brother. He no longer believed that Osamu was missing for the sake of a joke. Osamu wasn’t the person to do that, especially in somewhere as cramped and dark as a storage room. He had developed claustrophobia after being locked in the shed at a young age.

A crash sounded beside him, and Atsumu whipped around to investigate the source. He was desperate for anything that would lead him to his brother. “Osamu, is that you? Are you in there?” He tapped the vertical equipment closet, and a series of agitated knocks were returned to him. “Kita-san! Help me open this thing!”

The closet was tall, but lacked the space for more than a person and a few pieces of equipment. It had to be extremely uncomfortable to be trapped with so little space to move, until Atsumu realised that there had to be a reason why Osamu hadn’t kicked down the door. He had to be restrained, by something strong enough to hold him in place.

“Hang on, we’re going to get you out of there!”

The door had been jammed shut, but Atsumu wasn’t going to stop at that. With a grunt, Atsumu yanked the handle with all the force he could exert. As the closet door swung open, Osamu tumbled out almost simultaneously, tied into a volleyball net with his mouth taped.

“Which bastard did this?” Atsumu hissed, murderous rage pooling deep inside him. His insides were boiling, and he wanted to severely harm whoever dared to lock his brother up somewhere with no means of escape. Whether they knew about his phobia or not, Atsumu didn’t intend to forgive them.

Kita grabbed his shoulder, sinking his fingers into him to remind him what he was there for. “We have to untie him first. He can tell us then.” Atsumu regained his composure with some struggle, kneeling down to remove the volleyball net from Osamu’s body. “It’s okay, Osamu. We have you.” Kita removed the tape from Osamu’s mouth, but no words came out of him. Only shallow, panic-stricken gasps escaped him, and Atsumu recognised what was happening immediately.

“Breathe, Osamu. Not in so much. Push the air out of your lungs first." Atsumu had become used to handling Osamu when he was in a state of panic, having observed his parents calm him down several times after certain situations triggered a flashback. But he hadn’t ever seen Osamu so terrified. He had never been forced to relive his fear in such a way.

Even when Kita and Atsumu removed Osamu’s restraints, the boy was still violently shaking and terrified out of his mind. “Osamu, it’s okay. Nothing will hurt you now. See?” Atsumu held Osamu’s hand, caressing the skin gently and making their eyes meet. “Don’t say anything right now. Just focus on nice, even breathing.”

Tears overflowed from Osamu’s eyes as silent sobs wracked his body. “Tsumu,” he sniffled, coughing and hyperventilating. Atsumu realised Osamu wasn’t getting better. “I can’t breathe. I’m scared, Tsumu!” Osamu’s eyes were staring dully into nothingness, his cheeks growing wet and streaked.

“You can, Samu. I know you can.” Atsumu lay a hand on his brother’s back, while Kita wiped away the tears that kept rolling down Osamu’s cheeks. “Breathe with me. In, out, in again.” He moved his hand in circles, whispering instructions to help him stop spiralling. As Osamu’s breathing no longer became frantic and desperate, Atsumu pulled him into a tender hug. “You did well, Samu. It’s okay.”

“I’m okay..?” Osamu murmured, slumping down and laying his head onto Atsumu’s shoulder. With a childish whimper, Osamu began to wail into Atsumu’s clothes, tears and snot staining his uniform. Atsumu let him stay there, even when he could feel his shoulder become noticeably wet. “Thanks, Tsumu. Kita-san.”

“Yeah, you’re okay. Do you want me to call mom?” Atsumu pulled out his phone, and Osamu nodded wordlessly. He knew Osamu would be like that for the rest of the day, sticking with him and leaning on him. But he didn’t mind at all. It was one of the few times they really felt closeness as brothers, and it brought them right back to when they were children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos pls!!


	26. Broken Ribs: YakuLev

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yaku comes around to take care of Lev, things take a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yodelling* let's pretend I'm not several days late and pls enjoy the chapter

The start of Haiba Lev’s day was _abysmal_.

He woke up with a thick discomfort in his throat, and his entire body was hot and sticky. He knew it himself that he had a fever, and he wouldn’t be able to move from the bed even if he wanted to. Heat radiated off his skin onto his covers, but a cold, unpleasant chill ran down his back. He pressed his blankets closer to his body with a groan, taking in all the warmth he could get.

“Levyotchka? Shouldn’t you get ready for school?”

Alisa’s voice was distorted, which intensified Lev’s headache. His head was being boiled, and he was extremely grateful that his sister hadn’t left the house before him. He was sure that he couldn’t even reach his phone sitting on the bedside table, and he would die of dehydration home alone. His joints ached without movement, and he had discovered the hard way that joints were everywhere.

Lev could only respond to his sister with a whine, his throat burning with heat and pain. He hadn’t thought much of it yesterday, chalking it up to excessive yelling during practice. “Sis? Can you come here?” Lev could hardly raise his voice above a loud murmur, but whether his plea reached his sister or not, she came into his room anyway.

“What’s wrong, Levyotchka?! You look really unwell!” Alisa wasted no time before touching Lev’s neck, which felt icy and pleasant on his skin. Exhaling shakily, Lev pleaded with his eyes for her to keep her hand there. “You’re running a fever. And a really bad one.”

Lev whined as Alisa drew her hand back. “I know,” he slurred, shivering violently. “I want mom.” He reached out to hold Alisa’s arm, wincing at the pain the action brought him. His parents were away for work, leaving Alisa and Lev to care for themselves.

Alisa shushed Lev gently, swathing him in the blankets Lev had kicked onto the floor in his sleep. “I’m here, Levyotchka. I’ll stay here for as long as you need me to.” Tears pricked Lev’s eyes. He wanted his sister with him more than anything, but he knew she had an upcoming exam in one of her college classes. He couldn’t get her to miss any valuable lessons.

“Have to go to college,” Lev choked out, which sent him into a violent coughing fit. His chest stung with every breath, and his body throbbed at the slightest of movements. “Please, sis.” His throat protested as he spoke, forcing him to keep his sentences brief.

With a defeated sigh, Alisa brushed Lev’s fringe out of his face, wiping off the cold sweat. “We’ll have to call someone to take care of you, then.” After a pause, her face lit up. “Your boyfriend, Yakkun! I’m sure he’ll be happy to take care of you!”

Lev would have blushed, but he didn’t feel like his face could get any more flushed. _He’ll be happy to see you_ , he thought. Yaku made it no secret that he thought Alisa was beautiful, even if Lev was the one he loved. He couldn’t help feeling jealous sometimes.

“My phone,” Lev mumbled, glancing at the bedside table. “Don’t open the messages,” he added quickly. Although it was unlikely, he didn’t want Alisa to see some of the conversations that he and Yaku had on their phones.

“Don’t worry. I won’t pry,” Alisa assured him, patting his head. She dialled Yaku’s number, sitting on the bed and placing her cool palm on Lev’s forehead. Lev screwed his eyes shut as Alisa started talking. Her words were melting into the air, sounding like what Lev would hear underwater.

“He’s going to come soon. Is there anything you want in the meantime?”

Lev nodded shakily. A wet cough threw him off, which turned into a series of hacking fits that left his lungs sore and mouth filled with metallic phlegm. “Water.” His voice was almost gone already, and his throat was lined with a disgusting texture. “I wanna drink water.”

His request was noted by Alisa, who stood up and exited his room to get him the fluids he desperately needed. He could feel his body trying to sweat out the fever, which made his t-shirt and shorts soaking and uncomfortable to lie down in. Maybe he could ask Yaku to help him get changed. It was a possibility, if his fever continued to climb.

“Here. It’ll make your throat better.” Alisa handed Lev a rather large mug filled with water and a couple of ice cubes. “Can you drink on your own?”

“Yeah.” No matter how horrible his cold was, he couldn’t expect his sister to do everything for him. He took the mug from her, ignoring the cramps that shot up his arm and middle. He pressed the cool surface of the mug to his face, relishing the sensation for a while before tilting it for a drink. He swallowed the water in greedy gulps, although there was no denying the bitterness that filled his mouth.

Before Lev could finish the entire mug, some of the water went down painfully as he swallowed, causing him to choke while attempting to drink the water. “Levyotchka!” Alisa was by his side, wiping off the water and drool that dripped down his chin. He coughed into his hands painfully as Alisa rubbed his back, soothing him as best as she could.

“I’m sorry.” Alisa brushed away Lev’s tears and sweat on his cheeks, taking the cup from him and placing the spilled ice cubes back into it. “I should have popped a straw in.”

“Not your fault.” Lev reached out to hug his sister, craving the physical affection he sometimes thought his sister showed too much of. He needed it right now, when he felt so miserable and gross. “You gotta go class, sis. You’ll be late.”

The buzzer to his house chimed, and Alisa reluctantly let go of her sick brother. “I’ll be right back. Hopefully with Yakkun.” She pat Lev’s head as if he were a child, which he probably was in her eyes. He didn’t want his sister to leave, and all of a sudden he wanted to cry.

A murmur of voices reached his ear, but there were too many for it to be just Alisa and Yaku. It sounded like there was a party downstairs, with everyone except him yelling and dancing. If nobody came for him, he would have to suffer on his own again. He couldn’t bear being left alone when he was so sick, especially when his fever increased his sensitivity greatly.

Lev couldn’t believe it, but he was crying. Hiccups escaped him as he sobbed, until he couldn’t even explain to himself why he was so upset in the first place. He just felt so alone and needy. He needed Yaku with him. He wanted to see his beautifully brown eyes and have him kiss his forehead.

“Oi, Lev?” Yaku entered his room, but Lev hadn’t heard the footsteps making their way up to his room. His boyfriend was in his room before he could wipe his cheeks, and Yaku immediately saw him in his tearful, confused state. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it so bad you’re crying?”

As Yaku reached down to touch him, Lev completely lost his composure. “Yaku-san, I was scared!” He grabbed onto his boyfriend’s torso, hugging him and wailing like a child. He couldn’t help the loneliness that came with the fever, and he was too delirious to know what was going on.

“Mhm. I know, Lev. You’re okay, I’m right here. I won’t leave you alone.” Yaku withdrew from the embrace, and Lev whimpered at the loss of comfort. “I’m gonna get you something for the fever right now.” Yaku dug his hands into the plastic bag that he had brought with him, taking out a cold compress and placing it at the side of Lev’s neck.

“Feels good, Yaku-san.” Lev grinned, letting out a few wet coughs. His chest was heavy and it hurt to breathe, but the coolness and perspiration on his neck made everything a little more tolerable. He wanted to hug Yaku again and tell him he was the best boyfriend ever, but he didn’t want to infect Yaku with whatever awful sickness he had come down with.

Yaku frowned, rubbing Lev’s back as he hacked up disgusting slime into a tissue. “That doesn’t sound good, Lev. Have you been taking anything for that cough?” Lev shook his head, leaning back into his pillow and positioning the cold compress onto his flushed skin. He liked the idea of Yaku taking care of him, and as much as he hated medicine, he would gladly sacrifice a small amount of his comfort for his symptoms to let up.

“I only have some over-the-counter medicine.” Yaku fished out a bottle of cough syrup and fever reducers from the plastic bag, laying them out on the wooden table beside them and inspecting the labels with care. “What’s bothering you the most? I don’t know if you can take these both together.”

Lev pouted, but having some relief was better than having none. “I wanna take the fever reducer.” He decided that putting up with a cough was better than having hot and cold flashes and dizziness plaguing him for the rest of the day. Yaku opened the package of the fever reducer, popping out two white pills from the package and placing them in a glass of water. Lev reached for the glass, downing the medicine with the help of Yaku.

“Go to sleep, Lev. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” Yaku pulled the covers up to Lev’s neck, keeping only the light blankets so Lev could discard them if he became too overheated. “I’ll stay here until you go to sleep.” Yaku’s tender demeanour softened Lev’s heard, and he felt slightly ashamed for obsessing about whether his boyfriend would stare at his sister too much or not.

Lev wasn’t left with much of a choice. The room flashed between hot and cold, and he curled up under the covers instinctively. “I’m gonna try.” He imagined the fever reduced working its magic inside his body, which calmed him down enough for him to close his eyes and nod off into a peaceful sleep.

When Lev woke up, his room was much darker. Yaku was sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the bed, reading over what looked like school notes. The thought of school made Lev’s head pound. It wasn’t like he could go tomorrow even if he wanted to. At the rate he was getting worse, he would still be suffering. It was evening, and the team would have been practicing if it were a weekday.

“Yaku-san,” Lev whispered, his mouth dry and in dire need of fluids. He was certain that he had sweated out all of the water he consumed earlier, judging by how drenched his clothes and sheets were. “Yaku-san, what time is it?” Lev didn’t care for the time as much as Yaku’s company. He wanted his boyfriend’s eyes on him. That fact never changed, even if he was hacking up a lung.

Yaku pulled out his phone, approaching Lev just like he wanted him to. “It’s about half six. How do you feel?” He rustled around for a thermometer, handing it to Lev. “Take your temperature. I want to know if it got better while you were sleeping.”

“My head hurts. And my chest.” Lev took the thermometer from Yaku, sloppily inserting it under his arm. He vaguely remembered taking a fever reducer, but he wasn’t sure if that was working. The cold compress was floppy and lukewarm, which didn’t help his scorching hot skin. Despite how much heat he radiated, the chills that took over his body refused to stop.

“Your chest?” Yaku’s eyes filled with worry. “That sounds concerning, Lev. If it gets worse, we’ll have to get you to a hospital.” Lev answered with a cough that rattled his entire frame, cutting into his lungs. Only this time, he couldn’t stop. Instead of his breath relaxing and returning to its normal rate, inhaling hurt and stung his chest.

The coughing fit continued, taking over Lev’s body mercilessly. “Ya-”He was cut off abruptly by harsh, drawn-out hacking that strained his muscles and gripped his stomach in the most uncomfortable of ways. As Yaku rubbed circles on his dampening back, Lev’s midsection bubbled with nausea with each cough. His stomach clenched, and a dry heave escaped him.

A warm hand was pressed onto Lev’s back, which was a soothing gesture but one that also worsened the feeling that he was about to vomit. He couldn’t do anything except wait for the round of coughing to let up, but he couldn’t feel it happening. He only felt incredibly worse, each cough bringing him closer to throwing up.

“Lev. You gotta breathe. Can you do that?” Lev wanted to tell Yaku that he was trying, he was, but it was impossible to take in air when his body was expelling all of it within seconds. His body ignored his desperate pleas, and he was coughing up more and more phlegm until some dribbled down his chin. He sucked in a painful breath, which was the last straw for his churning stomach.

The coughs ended in dry heaving that burned his throat with acid, forcing tears to gather in his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so sick. It almost felt like he was being punished for something. Every cough squeezed his stomach upwards. He gagged into his palm, tears and saliva spilling onto his fingers.

It was almost too late when Yaku picked it on the urgency of the situation. “You’re gonna be sick.” Lev blinked profusely at him, hoping he would get the message in between coughs. He heard the rustling of plastic before Yaku, and the wheeze in his throat when he took a breath in between the violent fits of hacking.

Yaku placed a plastic bag under Lev’s chin, holding the back of his head to steady him. “If you think it’s going to happen, don’t fight it. It’s okay,” he soothed him, although Lev only caught some of what he said through his struggle to breathe. A series of coughs turned into a retch halfway through, choking him one minute and forcing him to vomit the next.  
One splash of sick was enough to set off a round of vomiting, each cough bringing up a mouthful of disgusting substance into the bag. Lev was actually crying, completely at his body’s mercy as he threw up until nothing was left, not even water. His eyes and throat stung, but even after the dry heaving abated, he wasn’t free from the coughing.

“Make it stop,” Lev cried out, his body wracked with tremors. “I can’t breathe-!” A particularly jarring cough made its way out of him, and a crack sounded in his chest. Pain twisted itself in his chest as he sucked in a breath. His hands gripped his t-shirt roughly, the throbbing almost unbearable. White spots danced in the side of his vision, and he was close to fainting. Losing his consciousness seemed like an amazing alternative to dealing with a cracked rib.

“I’m going to get Alisa. We’re going to the hospital, right now.”

Lev only managed a tearful nod. Terror seized his aching chest, but the thought of getting any sort of relief kept him calm enough to stay put while his boyfriend bolted down the stairs to get his sister. Breathing stabbed at his chest, but he needed to take in air that he had lost from coughing profusely. Yaku’s face roamed around his mind for a while, until he was able to pass out at last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos Pl ease


	27. "I can't walk.": OiKage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magic AU in which a cunning mage wants to sell Kageyama off, and Oikawa has none of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs*   
> This is actually my first time writing OiKage o_o

“You’re not laying one finger on my damn cute Tobio-chan.”

Oikawa extended a protective arm, wisps of grey darkness circling around it. Kageyama wasn’t anywhere near a mage. He was only an apprentice to Oikawa, although a frustratingly good one. Oikawa often felt a mixture of pride and ire teaching him, knowing he would eventually climb to his level or more. Still, the bond between them had grown so strong that Oikawa began to love him, and would die for him in a heartbeat.

The mage glared at Oikawa, icicles forming from his fingertips. Oikawa knew exactly what he was going to do to Kageyama if he caught him in his brutal arms. Mages who hunted down young users of magic with potential were growing in number, and Kageyama was an excellent target, with both a pretty face and undeniable skills.

“Your little apprentice is a very valuable user. I’m sure you know that too.”

An icicle sharp as a blade was aimed at Oikawa’s neck, drawing blood before Oikawa countered the attack with a dark, cloudy barrier. The pain that stung his skin was something Oikawa didn’t pay attention to. His eyebrows knitted together, and he shifted into a defensive stance, ready to counterattack.

“Well, he’s mine. You’re not going to take him away.”

Oikawa narrowly dodged the shards of ice flying in his direction. His sleeves were torn to shreds from protecting his face instinctively, and as he ripped his arms away from his face, he emitted an electric cloud of darkness to keep distance. “It’s useless. You won’t get past me fast enough.”

He fired another blast of electricity. It bounced off a clear shield of ice, crashing into a pile of turf. A torrent of ice crystals attacked him, slicing his arm before they were consumed by darkness. “You should have taken the pieces of gold without question.” A single, long icicle shot up from the ground, stabbing Oikawa’s cape. The fabric ripped as Oikawa leapt sideways, leaving him with a disheveled appearance.

“Too bad if you thought Tobio-chan was someone who I’d trade for gold or wealth.” Oikawa gathered energy between his palms, letting the darkness swirl around in his hands. He needed to finish him off, before the icicles would skewer him like a Tooru kebab.

“Then die!”

Oikawa didn’t jump out of the way fast enough. A sharp, cold sensation shot up his leg, which gradually turned into a stinging pain.

“You won’t be walking anytime soon,” the mage cackled, another icicle impaling Oikawa’s stomach. His leg was spilling blood and his stomach was burning, but it wasn’t enough to weaken his resolve.

With the last of his fading strength, Oikawa reached upwards, shooting an orb of darkness into the mage’s chest. He watched as he collapsed onto the ground, although Oikawa was barely holding onto the ground himself.

“I wonder when Iwa-chan’s going to arrive…”   
Oikawa had sent Kageyama away into the village, sensing that he couldn’t let Kageyama return to their cottage in the woods with him. And he was unfortunately right, as most of his unsettling assumptions were.

He clutched his bleeding stomach tightly, pressing on it to stop the blood. With the immediate threat of death gone, the pain began to increase tenfold. He felt dizzy and faint, black dots beginning to form in his field of vision.

Walking hurt, but he needed urgent help. With every breath, he lost more blood. The soft brown path was speckled with red, from his abdomen and leg. His head was starting to pound, the pain akin to a migraine and severe enough to blur his vision. Sounds blended into each other, and a faint ringing echoed in his ears.

“Shittykawa?”

Oikawa blinked back tears. He couldn’t help but think about Iwaizumi, his best friend. It was too good to be true. He was hearing things that made him hallucinate.

“Oikawa-san?”

It was Kageyama now, and Oikawa could almost see his disgruntled face. Those annoyingly adorable cheeks that Oikawa loved to poke, the glint of determination in his eyes. All the features that Oikawa cherished would soon fade from his memory.

“Shittykawa, you’re spilling blood everywhere!”

Iwaizumi’s shout brought Oikawa out of his trance. “Iwa-chan? You’re here?!” The sudden action shot a burst of pain through Oikawa’s middle, bringing tears to his eyes. “Did- did Kageyama fetch you?”

“I did.”

Kageyama was beside Iwaizumi, concerned that Oikawa didn’t recognise him immediately. “Oikawa-san, what happened? Are you going to be okay?” His voice was laced with panic, his gaze dropping onto Oikawa’s wounds. “Why are you bleeding so much?”

“I’ll be fine, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa flashed a grin, which was too strained to give any comfort. A violent cough jarred him, sending a ripple of pain into his stomach. The headache was growing too severe for it to be from the injuries. His legs trembled as he followed Iwaizumi to his house, where all of his healing equipment and potions were.

Oikawa noticed his stomach and leg starting to swell after the bleeding stopped. He was too lightheaded to properly register the pain, especially when his head felt like it was being squeezed to mush. He leaned against the wall, which supported most of his weight and prevented him from collapsing altogether.

An unpleasant thought occurred to him as his arm started to blister and swell. He attempted to quicken his pace, which was a fatal move. His stomach twisted itself into knots, and the pain was blinding. No longer able to stand, he crashed into the wall and then the ground.

“Oikawa-san, are you okay?! Iwaizumi-san, please help him!” Kageyama held Oikawa carefully, his eyes darting around in panic. “We’re almost there. Don’t close your eyes!”

“I think it’s poison,” Oikawa murmured, scrunching up his face as a wave of pain slammed into his head. “I can’t walk.”

Through blurry eyes, Oikawa could see the tears in Kageyama’s eyes threatening to spill. He never wanted to see him cry, not like that. He wanted to assure him it was okay, he was there. But the drowsiness was too much, and no words reached Kageyama.

“We’ll get him help right now, Kageyama. Can you hold him?”

Without hesitation, Kageyama slipped his arms around Oikawa, carrying him in a semi-bridal style as Iwaizumi began to assess Oikawa’s injuries. “It’s poison magic. There’s no doubt.” Although Kageyama was in no way used to carrying people, being held by him was comfortable enough for Oikawa to fall asleep. Getting poisoned was horrible, but Kageyama’s warmth made the ordeal less unpleasant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos please


	28. Severe Illness: GoShira (READ NOTES)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is brushed off as nerves is actually more serious than anyone thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... the month is over but I still needed to get this off my chest. Or document, I don't know. This is more a less of a mixture of 3 of the last prompts but eh, that's okay.
> 
> Warning: THERE IS DEATH. AND BLOOD.

Fragile was never a word Goshiki thought about using to describe himself.

He was Shiratorizawa’s ace-to-be, a spiker that would wow the crowd and lead his school to victory. He would fly high, bettering himself every day. Ever since the third years graduated, his resolve was only strengthened. As a second year, he strived to train the first years and watch their talents sprout. He enjoyed the extra responsibilities that others found tedious.

He loved volleyball, his teammates, the rush of excitement it gave him.

Or so he thought.

As Goshiki ran from one end of the court to the other, he noticed his stamina draining rapidly, even more so than when he was in his first year. He’d eaten properly and slept a decent amount, so there wasn’t anything he could blame himself for. His breathing was laboured after just fifteen minutes of practice. He kept himself going, until the burn in his lungs became too much.

The volleyball landed beside him as he fell to his knees, panting. “Goshiki!” Shirabu whipped around and knelt beside him, placing his palm on his back and peering into his face. “You okay? What’s happening?”

Goshiki couldn’t answer. He needed to breathe, but he couldn’t exhale as much as he was inhaling. When he tried to take in air, it all came out with a series of dry coughs. “I’m okay,” he rasped out in between sharp gasps, tears forming in his eyes from not being able to breathe properly.

“You’ve pushed yourself too much, idiot.” Shirabu rubbed comforting circles on his back. Goshiki wanted to tell him that he wasn’t pushing himself, he could normally go for much more. “Do you think you can continue practice?”

Goshiki nodded, his breathing gradually returning to normal. “I just got breathless. It’s nothing, I promise.” His face had turned a puffy shade of red, and Shirabu felt his forehead to check for a sign of fever.

“You don’t seem to have a temperature. Take it easy for today, and go to sleep earlier. You might be beginning to catch a cold.” Shirabu left him with a warning, resuming practice while keeping an eye on him. Goshiki brushed off his concerns, assuring the first years that he was alright.

When night fell, Goshiki noticed that his body felt entirely normal. He didn’t know why he suddenly ran out of stream during practice, but it had to be because he was just unlucky. He fell asleep peacefully, Shirabu’s advice laying at the back of his mind. He was truly a great captain, even if he didn’t show his concern often.

He woke up in the dead of night, darkness welcoming his eyes. He attempted to fall back into a peaceful sleep, but a sting in his chest prevented him from doing so. Letting out a whine, he rubbed his chest, willing the sensation to let up. The prickly, unpleasant ache stayed until he passed out, drowsiness overpowering his pain.

Goshiki’s eyes had bags under them the next morning. He had slept a healthy amount, but the quality of his rest hadn’t been great. At breakfast, he didn’t want to eat his usual ungodly amount of breakfast. He wasn’t nauseous, but his appetite had diminished.  
“You feeling better?”

Shirabu tapped him from behind, eliciting a yelp from him. “I’m alright. Just not hungry.” As if on cue, Goshiki’s throat tickled unpleasantly. He cleared his throat, taking a spoonful of curry into his mouth.

Shirabu eyed him cautiously. He wasn’t being let off the hook from what happened yesterday. “Did you sleep well last night? You look paler than usual. Is it a cold?”

Goshiki shook his head. “I don’t feel sick or congested. Just tired.” Shirabu had a knack for knowing when Goshiki wasn’t at his best. There was no hiding anything from him, but even the truth didn’t seem to convince him.

“Go to a hospital. It might get worse as the day goes on.”

There wasn’t anything wrong with him, Goshiki was sure of it. Shirabu was making it out as if it were something worse than it really was. “Alright. I’ll go.” There was still time for him to have an early morning visit. “But it’s nothing. I feel fine otherwise!”

There weren’t many patients waiting in the early morning. Goshiki swung his legs and glanced around at the equipment, taking guesses as to what they were used for. He knew he didn’t need them, so there was no point in him knowing, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

“Goshiki Tsutomu?”

His name was called after a couple of minutes, and he marched into the office with slight hesitation. He rarely ever stepped foot into a hospital. He only had memories of injections and that one time he caught the flu, and neither of those were something he wanted to experience again.

Goshiki was greeted by a gentle-looking nurse and a doctor in his early fifties. As he was asked what was troubling him, Goshiki relaxed slightly. It didn’t seem like he was sick with something that needed any urgent treatment. It was the start of a cold, at its worst.

He was given some pills to calm his coughing, and sent off for the day. He was in time for his first class, although he was late enough for the teacher to demand an explanation. When his classmates asked him what was wrong, he brushed it off with an air of calmness.

“Well?”

“I was completely fine! It’s a cold, at worst.”

Goshiki grinned proudly, puffing his chest out in an air of smugness. Shirabu didn’t have to worry so much about him. He could be such a stickler for making sure he was okay. Warm arms wrapped around Goshiki unexpectedly, patting the back of his head.

“If you’re fine, then that’s all I need to hear.”

Heat gathered under Goshiki’s eyes. The unexpected sweet gesture from his boyfriend left Goshiki’s heart writhing, and the pleasant burn in his chest was enough for him to let out a whine.

The coughing was as good as gone when Goshiki took the medicine as instructed, but the tingling, itchy sensation in his chest didn’t disappear. It reappeared in the dead of night, leaving him squirming uncomfortably while clutching his chest. He passed out shortly after, but waking up in the middle of the night left him irritated and cranky in the morning.

He had to look better than the day before, because Shirabu wasn’t commenting on the lack of energy he had and the bags he thought he had underneath his eyes. He craved the attention to a certain extent. It wasn’t often that Shirabu doted on him and cared for him so openly.

A week later, Goshiki was in top form. He was the unquestionable, untouchable ace of Shiratorizawa. “Shirabu-san, did you see? Did you see my super straight spike?” He jumped up and down excitedly, remaining uncaring of the first years staring at him.

“Yeah. Try to improve on your cross spikes, too.” Shirabu gave him a light fist bump. It was a sign of congratulations, and he also ruffled his bowl cut shortly after. “Well done, Goshiki. Your efforts are being rewarded.”

Goshiki giggled childishly. He wanted to give Shirabu a kiss right there and then, but controlled himself knowing that it would be met with disapproval. Instead he returned a grin, his sweat glistening on his flushed cheeks.

The stinging in his chest stopped eventually, and Goshiki was living life in the most fulfilling way he knew. He had a boyfriend he loved more than the entire world put together, and he was working towards the Spring High. He couldn’t wait to battle the other schools again, and go to nationals for sure this time.

But the ache came back every so often. It didn’t let him forget all about it, reminding him that the mysterious, troublesome pain wouldn’t disappear so easily. He didn’t think much of it, a mild irritation at most. He would wake up slightly sleep deprived and grumpy, but it didn’t impact his performance and school life overall.

When a practice match between Shiratorizawa and Karasuno was finally set up, Goshiki and Shirabu were beyond euphoric. They could finally go up against their sworn nemesis. Goshiki wasn’t going to let the weirdo quick duo best them again. They were stronger this time. They would pluck the crows’ wings.

“Goshiki, go for it!”

Shiratorizawa were at set point, and Shirabu tossed to Goshiki to finish off the set. Just one more point and they could beat the team that went to nationals instead of them. Goshiki leapt up, his desire to prove that his team was stronger fuelling him. His hand collided with the volleyball…

…And so did his knees, onto the ground. A stab of pain grasped him all of a sudden, right in the chest. The spike went over the net, but didn’t quite score them a point. “Oi! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!” Shirabu’s voice was right beside him, yanking him off the ground. His chest didn’t hurt anymore, but the coughing began again, rattling his frame in every way.

“I’m okay, Shirabu-san. I can play.” Goshiki lifted himself off the ground, shaking off the dizzy feeling that seized him. His bones ached, begging him to stop. He ignored his body’s pleas and kept going, but he could tell that Shirabu was reluctant to let him spike.

The winning point was scored by Kawanishi, and Goshiki was delighted. His team had excellent blockers and a new libero-in-training who was growing rapidly. He dreamt of going to nationals and playing off against the powerhouse schools. Fukurodani, Kiryuu, Itachiyama. He wanted to beat them all and have his team come out on top.

His moment of pure bliss was interrupted in the bus ride, when Shirabu jabbed him in the shoulder. “Hey. What was that all about? If you’re hurt, you have to go and get it treated immediately when we get back,” he hissed, assessing Goshiki for any signs of pain or injury.

“I’m fine now. I really don’t know why that happened. I feel okay-“

“But _what happened?_ ” Shirabu questioned him further, and Goshiki was seized with intimidation. “You still look somewhat sick. Is it your stomach? Your ribs? Where did it hurt?”

Goshiki gestured to the general area around his chest. He’d been having the stings of pain at night recently, but he always brushed it off as a mild annoyance. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Shirabu-san, it’s probably nothing serious. Maybe cramps.”

“Your chest?” Shirabu eyed him accusingly, and Goshiki averted his gaze out of awkwardness and guilt. “If your chest hurts, you need to see a doctor. Didn’t you ever take health class?” Goshiki knew that Shirabu’s harsh words came from a place of concern, but he doubted he could take his concerns to a doctor and get a straight answer.

Shirabu forced Goshiki to see a doctor anyway, but there wasn’t much that could be done. He endured a few medical tests that weren’t particularly comfortable, and his chest pain was chalked up to stress. It was a relief somewhat to know that he wasn’t dying as of the moment, but Goshiki didn’t recall having any stressors.

“If there’s anything you need to talk about, bring it up. I want to help, you know.” Goshiki knew that if anyone needed reassurance and love, it was Shirabu. He was the captain of a powerhouse team, and in his third year of high school. Balancing volleyball and study meant a serious amount of planning. “If you’re stressed, don’t bottle it up. I care.”

Goshiki let Shirabu embrace him. He buried his face into Shirabu’s shoulder, savouring the warmth that it brought to him. He breathed in the scent of Shirabu, closing his eyes and taking everything in. He was the exact opposite of stressed, according to himself. Perhaps it was something pent-up that he had internalised without realising.

“I love you, Shirabu-san. Thank you for caring.”

Even after the second visit to the hospital, Goshiki didn’t feel too good. Having his pain explained with one word only added to his stress, whether he liked it or not. He didn’t have a problem with coping, but it made him feel as if he did. He was hurting, and that was what caused his stress. Or was it the other way around?

The stinging that attacked him at night turned to coughing and hacking. That was stress too, he told himself over and over. He became unhealthily pale after losing many hours of sleep. He ate his meals the best he could, but swallowing hurt and he couldn’t bring himself to be enthusiastic about food, no matter how amazing it tasted.

One night, the heart palpitations started. He lay in bed convincing himself that he was all right, it was just a bit of nerves from the extra responsibilities and studying. Despite never having major issues with anxiety and confidence before, Goshiki found himself fearing little things that he never would have thought twice about in his first year.

Goshiki stopped taking on extra challenges and staying longer after practice, for fear it would add to his stress and make him feel sicker. It was all right to take care of himself, he assured himself over and over again. But the disappointment caught up to him as he counted the hours he lost and the amount of times he shook his head to coaching the first years.

Despite his efforts to improve his mental state, his nervousness and stress levels only seemed to increase. His chest hurt every evening before practice, no matter how much he wanted to connect with his teammates. His excitement was gone, but he wanted to hang onto it desperately. He loved volleyball. He loved his amazing setter, his teammates.

Goshiki couldn’t take the fear anymore, and finally skipped an evening of practice. He knew how much trouble he would be in if he were found out, but he couldn’t bring himself to go when his entire body screamed at him to stop.

He didn’t feel any better as he lay in bed, clutching his aching chest. He tried every relaxation techniques known to man, from yoga to breathing exercises. It wasn’t working for him at all. Guilt ate at his heart, and he couldn’t stop coughing once a fit began. His chest burned with each hack, and tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. He wanted a shred of normalcy again. He wanted Shirabu to comfort him, tell him it was all right.

The only way Goshiki could reduce the damage his body received was by staying at his dorm and laying in bed. The fatigue left him glued to his sheets, and he couldn’t believe that he used to leap so high, reaching for the sky. Now, he could barely reach for the glass of water resting on the bedside table.

“Goshiki, I need to talk to you.”

When Shirabu confronted him one evening, Goshiki realised just how many practices he had skipped due to his unexplained stress and health issues. He could tell that Shirabu was absolutely livid, and he had a right to be. He knew he had brought it on himself.

“Do you not like volleyball anymore?”

Goshiki shook his head. “I like volleyball. But I just feel so tired all the time, and I can’t be like the way I used to,” he admitted. He wanted to cry. He couldn’t shake the dread from his body, no matter what he tried. It killed him to not be able to do something he was so passionate about.

“You’ve barely come to practice. Where did your motivation go?” Shirabu continued relentlessly. He was hitting Goshiki with the questions he had been meaning to hit him with for so long, and it was coming out explosively. “Am I not enough as a captain?”

“ _No_!”

Goshiki exclaimed, shaking his head violently. “That’s not true. That’s not true at all! This isn’t your fault, Shirabu-san.”

“Did you lose interest because your role model Ushijima-san isn’t there anymore? Why can’t you play like you used to?”

Shirabu sounded like he was about to cry, and Goshiki’s heart shattered. He had done this to him, he had done this to him because he was too busy worrying about himself. “I never wanted this to happen. I’m sorry, Shirabu-san. This is my fault.”

“If you’re not interested anymore, just don’t come.”

Shirabu’s words left Goshiki glued to the spot, his mouth forming a thin line of defeat. He couldn’t say anything back, not when both were trying their hardest not to cry. There was nothing he could think of to say to make anything better.

Goshiki’s pillows were wet throughout the night. His body didn’t make sense to him anymore, and his boyfriend became so exasperated by him that he didn’t know what would become of their relationship.

He sobbed in between harsh coughs, wiping his eyes profusely as his chest throbbed with every breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt normal. His pain was his new reality.

After that night, Goshiki stopped attending practice. He headed straight back to his dorm after classes ended, immersing himself in some manga volumes that he didn’t care for. It was better if he kept himself occupied instead of focusing on his pain every moment of his day. He couldn’t tell whether the spreading ache in his lungs were from physical or emotional pain.

He coughed to clear the heaviness in his chest, hoping it would alleviate some of the discomfort. There was a thick sensation that lined his throat, and he coughed again in an attempt to dislodge it.

On Goshiki’s palm, there was a splatter of coagulated blood.

Metallic liquid filled his mouth, instead of what he had expected. There was almost no phlegm, only various shades of red that seeped into his skin. His lungs burned, forcing him to cough up more blood into his hand. He shakily headed over to the bathroom, washing his trembling hands and spitting out the watery bitterness in his mouth. He needed to get to a hospital, and fast.

A knock on his door halted Goshiki’s train of thought. “Hey, Goshiki? You here?” It was Shirabu’s voice, and Goshiki could only stare at the door for a brief moment before hacking up more warm blood into the sink. The back of his throat was gurgling with the sheer amount of blood, and he couldn’t breathe without more blood spurting from his mouth.

“Goshiki?” The footsteps advanced into Goshiki’s dorm, but all he could manage was a weak whimper. “Goshiki, what’s wrong?” A violent fit of coughing took over, and more blood spilled from his paled lips. He was going to choke. “Oi, are you there?”

Although Goshiki ran the taps to let the blood caked onto the sink swirl down the drain, his lips and chin were stained with so much crimson that it was obvious he’d coughed up blood. “Shirabu-san?” He turned around to face his boyfriend, whose face was rapidly losing colour. He winced as his chest was gripped with a wave of pain, and a splash of blood was expelled from his mouth and down his chest.

“What the- what the _fuck_ , Goshiki?!”

Shirabu was initially frozen on the spot, but snapped out of his horrific trance and grabbed the swaying Goshiki. “Shit, shit, shit. Breathe. It’s okay. I’m getting you an ambulance right now. Stay with me, Goshiki. It’s gonna be okay.” Goshiki knew he wasn’t going to be all right. There was so much blood, _so much_. He needed to actively focus on his breathing to stop choking. A gentle hand rubbed circles on his back tenderly, but Goshiki could barely register the touch. His vision was blurring, and he was getting taken to somewhere far away.

He was in a hospital, with an oxygen mask placed over his mouth. He was breathing and his heart was still beating, reminding him that he was alive. The last thing he remembered was Shirabu’s panic-stricken face. It all added up now, the constant pain and fatigue that never let up. He wasn’t stressed. He was _dying_.

Goshiki was given a long talk with his parents and his doctor, who explained to him in simple language about his illness. He was slightly irritated, although he was surprised he could even feel an emotion like that. He only wanted to know whether he would live past the next few years or not.

His mother’s eyes were puffy, and his father was already starting to let out faint sobs. “Mom? I’m gonna be okay, right?” He couldn’t bear to see his parents upset anymore. He wanted the straight truth, even though he didn’t want to hear anything about dying. “Am I going to get through…this?”

“Two months. That’s how much you have left, approximately.”

Goshiki’s world crumbled around him, turning to grey ashes and dust. _Two months_. That wasn’t even close to the Spring High. He wouldn’t get to his seventeenth birthday. He wouldn’t be able to get a driving license. He was going to die, sooner or later.

“Tsutomu, I’m so sorry.” His mother took his hand and wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead lovingly. “I love you. Your father and I love you, so much, Tsutomu. We love you so much.”

Goshiki couldn’t register the soft touches on his body and his parents whispering comfortingly to him. There was no way he was going to die. There was so much he hadn’t discovered, so much he had yet to accomplish. He wasn’t going to die so young.

“I don’t wanna go, mom. I don’t want to die!” Goshiki screamed, digging his overgrown nails into his palms. He started to bleed, but he didn’t care. It meant that he was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long. He was going to become an unresponsive piece of flesh, and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. He couldn’t stand the thought of his family and teammates crowding around his casket, crying.

He screamed and wept, until he was sure that every tear that he could possibly produce had rolls down his cheeks. And then there was nothing. He would just be a tragedy in everyone’s lives, mentioned every once in a while with a grim tone. He could do little to change that.

“Tsutomu.”

Goshiki lifted his head off the pillow. “Kenjirou.” He stared into his boyfriend’s eyes, taking a good look at all his defining features. He wouldn’t know if it would be the last time he would ever see him. “I only have two months left. I’m sorry.”

“I should be apologising.” Shirabu’s arms were tight around him, and tremors racked his body as he held back his tears. “I didn’t check on you when I should have. You were hurting, and I wasn’t there for you. I was horrible to you.”

Goshiki shushed him, sharing a kiss on his lips with him. He hadn’t been intimate with him in so long. He needed to savour his last moments with him, feel his skin on top of his. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and I want you to just stay with me these two months. Please.”

It wasn’t just Shirabu that stuck with a Goshiki all the time. His parents popped in every day whenever they had any free time on their hands, and eventually stopped going to work altogether to spend time with their dying son. The entire team visited and decorated Goshiki’s room with flowers and drawings. Even the graduated third years all hugged him tearfully, murmuring that he didn’t deserve all the pain.

The threat of death was always near, but Goshiki’s smile returned to him after a few weeks. He was scared, but he could reach out to anyone and they would all be there for him. Breathing became tiring, and his sickness was spreading all over his body. There was no point in attempting to treat it. It would only shorten his life expectancy, and he didn’t have much longer in the first place.

“I’m not scared anymore.”

Goshiki’s health began to rapidly deteriorate after a month and a half. His joints roared with pain with every move, and he spent much of his time sleeping or coughing. “I don’t want to go, but I know you’ll remember me. You’re going to be happy, Shirabu-san. You’re going to have a happy future, and have a great job. You’re a great captain. You’re going to bring everyone to nationals.”

“I wanted to bring you there too.” Shirabu sobbed, wrapping his arms around Goshiki’s thin frame. He’d lost a lot of weight from the disease sucking away at his life. He stroked Goshiki’s bowl cut silently, as if time would stop if he paid enough attention. They would never get their forever. Their time together was limited, and the end was nearing.

“I wanted to bring you to the orange court. You were my amazing spiker, and you’ll always be. I’ll always remember and treasure you. For ten years, twenty years, for the rest of my life.”

Hot tears dripped from Goshiki’s eyes, splattering onto the pillow case. “I love you, but you can’t only think about me forever. You’re going to be happy with someone else. You have to move on.” With the last of his strength, Goshiki reached up and caressed Shirabu’s cheek. He deserved someone who would grow with him together and be there for him throughout his future.

“Shut up. I’m telling you that I love you, so just accept it.”

Goshiki giggled, knowing that Shirabu was saying so with a hint of teasing. “I’ve gotten so much from you, Shirabu-san. So much, that my chest feels like it’s going to overflow.” He gestured to his heart, grabbing Shirabu’s arm to let him touch his living, beating organ.

The two spooned that night. They didn’t want to sleep, and miss a chance to see each other other’s faces for possibly the last time. If Goshiki didn’t wake up after he fell asleep, Shirabu had to make sure he felt comfortable in his arms in his last moments.

No words were said much, but the presence of each other was enough for them. Goshiki knew himself that the end was nearing. His breathing became laboured, and the coughing came back, as violent as ever. His parents and Shirabu stuck with him for the entire day, not daring to leave him in case he suddenly left the world.

“Thanks for everything, Kenjirou.”

“Mmhm.” Shirabu stroked Goshiki’s hair as he lay down, whispering sweet things into his ear. “You’re such a great boyfriend. There’s so much that we should have done together, but I’m just thankful I got to meet you. I’m so happy it was you I fell for.”

“I lo- love you. Kenjirou, I lu-lov’ you,” Goshiki slurred, his eyes fluttering open and shut. After Shirabu replied a shaky “Love you too”, no more words were spoken. Only breathing could be heard, and the sobs Shirabu couldn’t hold back. His pillow sank into the bed as his consciousness drifted away, slowly into nothingness.

That was how Goshiki’s life came to a close, at sixteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudo and comments pls!


End file.
